One of Us
by MixedBreedMaiya
Summary: Even after three years, discrimination runs rampant. But with the accidental discovery of a village isolated from the world since before Mithos' reign, identities are questioned, dangers faced, memories dragged up, and unbreakable bonds formed. RaineRegal
1. Chapter 1

Tadaaaa~! Look, I'm back! And I'm...starting...a new fanfiction. Oh, Martel. I know, I know. "Not another one!" Right? But I just can't help myself. This idea's been buzzing around in my head for months, and it just demanded that I release it!

Raine: And having no other life to speak of, naturally, you obliged this ludicrous impulse.

Well...duh. I'm a writer. It's kind of what we do, sweetiepants.

Raine: What have we said, Maiya, about those idiotic, little petnames of yours?

Umm... That...they're...?

Raine: -facepalm- She does not own, and is no way associated, with any part of the Tales of Symphonia franchise, or anything related to such. It is all pirated for her own sadistic pleasures.

...huh? OH RIGHT. Fanfic time! Enjoy, readers!

* * *

><p>"Wow... Look at that... Raine, <em>look<em>."

It was like a child at Christmas, the way this young man drank in his surroundings. Wide-eyed and glowing with a comical expression of awe and delight, he moved forward, turning in a slow circle as he went. One hand kept running back through unruly white hair in need of both comb and cut; left to its own agenda, it tended to fall into his eyes. She supposed it was a phase, this aversion to getting it trimmed up. It was beginning to resemble a mop sitting on his head, but any grief she gave him about it was brushed off at once. Never mind the fact that it was inconvenient and made him look silly to be playing with it constantly in order to _see_. Adolescence had brought amusing and exasperating mannerisms along with a few inches of height, it seemed.

Her own eyes half-closed in a tiny smile that her lips wouldn't show as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She had little room to talk about his hair, in the end. She had let hers grow, too, until it now sat around her shoulders, straight and soft and still difficult to get used to. But then, hers was not constantly in her face and forcing her to form compulsive habits.

"I'm looking, Genis," she replied. "It's impressive. It's difficult to believe that this was a pile of flooded rubble just two and a half years ago." Idly, she allowed her gaze to trail over the new homes, the shops lining the neatly paved cobblestone pathways, the wide harbor in the distance. Palmacosta, being restored to all of its glory. She couldn't deny a sense of delight, herself.

To Sylvarant and its oppressed, downtrodden people, this was surely an indescribable joy. And while her birthplace had technically been on the flourishing world of Tethe'alla, she found herself more easily relating to the once declining world of Sylvarant. If she had had to associate herself with one or the other, she would now have chosen that latter. And now, not only was the largest and most important city in Sylvarant being rebuilt, but the funding, the support, was coming from a Tethe'allan company. From the most prestigious Tethe'allan company; from the Lezareno. It was a massive lift for these people, after nearly three years of ill treatment and stereotyping from the other side. She _was _excited - and very grateful to one Regal Bryant.

Of course, there was one aspect of the new city that both she and her younger brother were especially looking forward to; it was more or less the reason they had decided to come at last. And as they turned a corner and stepped around a sign labeled _Marble's_, the academy came into view. Raine actually slowed to a stop, her expression changing slightly. ...Yes. This was good.

"This is crazy," Genis stated, linking his hands together and dropping them down on the top of his head. "I never expected to see this place a bustling capital again."

"Or ever," she added in a quip. Compared to Meltokio, Palmacosta had been a rustic village. Now, though, it looked like her brother's assessment wasn't far from the truth. People were everywhere - and not only those working. Citizens, _families_, were passing by them from every direction. Lives were being lived here once again. "Come on. You wanted to see the academy."

Genis tossed her a sidelong glance. "You mean _you _wanted to see the academy."

"You're the one attending it, yes? Then clearly you have more invested in this visit than I do." She cocked an eyebrow at him and inclined her head toward the large, still not-quite-finished building on the other side of the square. "Let's go."

He shook his head at her, tossed it to the side to clear the violet eyes that matched hers, and started walking again. "I still think you ought to teach here, sis. I don't know why you immediately said no when that letter came."

Raine's initial response was a quiet snort as she trailed after him, watching the people they passed distantly. "We were rather busy at the time," she reminded him dryly. Only recently had they placed their campaign against discrimination on hold. For his schooling, actually.

"We're not now. You're gonna get so bored and lonely without me around. You need _something _to do all day, every day. What could be better than whipping ignorant, little students into some kind of respectable state of education, huh?" After running his fingers back through his hair for the thousandth time, he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His posture had also taken a slight dip in the past few months. Oh, adolescence. Pray, pass quickly.

"What, indeed?"

The siblings Sage both halted in near unison at this familiar voice that carried in it a mild note of amusement. As Genis twisted his head around to find the source, Raine turned completely and found herself forced to step backward an inch or two and look up to meet a sea-blue gaze glinting with a spark of mirth. She just blinked, surprised. It was her brother who found his wits first.

"Heeey!" the boy exclaimed after a moment, breaking into a grin and coming back to stand beside her. "Regal! Wow, is that you? What do you know?" He stuck out a hand, his good mood absolutely palpable. As Raine held her bottom lip gently between her teeth to restrain the smile, the taller human shook Genis' offered hand like a true businessman. His smile, however, was rather apparent in his eyes if nothing else.

"Genis," he greeted. As he released the youthful hand, he turned to the older half-elf and, after a brief pause to take in her face, picked up hers and bowed his head to barely touch it to his lips. "Raine." At her expression, he chuckled softly. "...Forgive me. It's something of an occupational hazard, I'm afraid."

Raine drew back her hand and folded her arms loosely across her middle, examining their old companion from the cerulean hair neatly tucked away in a lengthy nobleman's braid down his back, to the trim and polished black shoes, just as new and shiny as the stone path upon which they stood. Her eyes lingered briefly on his face, distinctly lacking most of the grimness she recalled, and then again on his unbound hands before he linked them behind his back. "...You've changed," she finally concluded, meeting his eyes once more. The shackles' absence alone was noteworthy.

"As have the two of you," the Duke returned evenly, ever the diplomatic tower of etiquette. "It took me a moment to recognize you. One of you is quite a bit taller than I seem to remember."

Here, predictably, Genis began to glow again. "A whole three inches!" he exclaimed, proudly.

"Are we talking about your height or your hair now?" This was Raine's wry interjection as she reached over maternally to again drag the mess out of his face, which fell into a flat expression. "Honestly."

"Are you still on that? Your hair is longer than mine, you know. And look at Regal's!"

"His does not form a curtain in front of his eyes and force him to walk around with his head cocked to one side as though his neck were broken," she sighed.

"Okay, Mom." Genis rolled his eyes in good humor. "When my hair gets that long, I'll be sure and wear it _just _like Regal, since you apparently think so highly of him."

"...I believe I am better off as a spectator here, rather than a participant," Regal mused. "And for the blatantly obvious reason of breaking up this debate - it's good to see you both. Are you two planning to bring your cause here, as well?"

Raine shook her head. "Not exactly. Genis has finally decided to take up the offer made him several years ago by the Palmacosta Academy and become a student here. I wanted to see him off, as well as see for myself the restoration of the city." Here, her expression softened just a touch in appreciation. "It's inspiring. I'm grateful to you. Everyone here is, I'm sure."

The large man turned his head to sweep his gaze across the city. "It is inspiring - but not because of me or the Lezareno. It is because of the people of Sylvarant themselves, who have accepted us and refused to give up. They are strong, each and every one of them. They are the ones who accomplished all of this, in the end."

Genis scratched his cheek idly. "Sylvarant's had the short end of the stick for a long time, but they never gave up," he agreed soberly. "While it was still the declining world, they never stopped believing in Martel, and the Chosen's Journey. A lot of people were too scared to stand up to the Desians - but they never lost hope that there was a way to beat them. And now, against Tethe'alla's bigotry and intimidation, they're even more determined to hold their own. Whether as a world or now as a nation, Sylvarant is amazing, huh?"

"Yes, it is. It is immensely difficult to hold hope when all the odds are stacked so stubbornly against you." She knew that much from experience. "But when all is said and done, it's well worth it, I suppose."

"Lloyd demonstrated that to us, I believe," nodded Regal.

"...I'm not sure that it was quite so philosophical in Lloyd's case as much as the fact that he was stubborn," Raine replied, wryly. "But yes, I guess he did."

Genis quirked a little smile and turned away to look at the academy once more. "Man, it really looks great, Regal. It's bigger than it was, right?"

Regal twisted a bit to follow the young man's gaze. "Yes, it has been expanded to better meet the needs of its students. We have also been working on filling the faculty positions with the most qualified individuals available." Raine did not miss the fleeting glance he sent her way, but she chose, for now, to ignore it. "There have been two or three people from Tethe'alla who have stepped forward to assist the education on this side, but that has been...challenging."

Genis frowned slightly, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

A small grimace tugged at the nobleman's lips. "You were not mistaken when you mentioned Tethe'allan 'bigotry', I'm afraid. The majority of the populace is decidedly indifferent to the wellbeing of their neighbors here. A great deal of them are even very much opposed to the idea of helping them. The Lezareno has been the target of many political and personal slanders for our work here. It's shameful."

"Shameful, but not exactly a surprise." Raine's own voice was grim. "People are constantly looking for ways to validate themselves by grinding another beneath their heels."

"'People fear and hate what is different,'" quoted Regal. They all recognized the words from nearly three years before, and she shook her head slowly with a quiet sigh. It was an undeniable truth of the nature that existed between men, whatever race.

With a sad smile, she added her own soft quotation: "'Life survives at the cost of another.' Some things do not change." Her left hand strayed over to scratch at the opposite shoulder, near her neck.

This apparently irked Genis, who pulled a face. "That's not true, sis. Some things have already changed a _lot. _We just have to keep trying to change them more."

After an oddly scrutinizing look at the elder of the two that she wasn't sure she understood or liked, Regal relaxed into a tame smile and inclined his head toward the mage. "This is very true. Belief and perseverance can change entire worlds," he quipped. "But enough of this dismal topic; you've just arrived, I presume? No doubt you'll want to settle in a bit."

"Actually, I'm kind of anxious to get inside and look around. Is that okay?" Genis looked between the two adults, though she was fairly certain it was a request more directed toward Regal. The latter just chuckled quietly and swept his arm toward the building.

"Be my guest."

Grinning, he tossed a nod to his elder sister and set off toward his new school. There was a giddy bounce in his step that Raine was both amused at and proud of. Few people would get that excited about pursuing a higher education, and while it had taken a great deal of discussion and persuasion on her part before he had agreed to put their campaign on hold for this, she knew it had turned out to be the right choice. He was ecstatic.

* * *

><p>And there you have it: the first chapter of my lastest Symphonia baby! It was much fun to write. I actually had more written, but it had racked up to over three thousand words, and I still wasn't finished with it. So I decided to cut it off here and make the rest of it into part of a second chapter. For length, convenience, and sanity's sake. Y'know.<p>

Raine: Martel only knows how people get through this much of your drabble, let alone something longer. ...-shudder-

Oh, pshaw. You know you love these sibling-love moments. And hooking up with Regal, eh? Eh?

Raine: ...I beg...your pardon.

Oop. Someone's in deni~al... SO! Before Raine has the chance to throttle me (as she is wont to do), thank you all for reading, and please review! More to come soon!


	2. Chapter 2

Tadum! I now have a reviewer and follower, so I can, officially, continue this story in good conscience.

Raine: Conscience.

Yes. Conscience. You know...the little cricket that does his best to help me become a real girl?

Raine: Idiotic references aside, if you had any conscience, you wouldn't be writing this drabble.

...-giggle-

Raine: ...What...?

Drabble. It's such a funny word. Drabble. Drabbleydrabble.

Raine: ...Go to bed, Maiya.

* * *

><p>"He is certainly eager to begin, isn't he?" mused Regal, watching the young man scurry off just as Raine did.<p>

"He fought me tooth and nail before agreeing to come, but...yes. And I'm glad. I think it's a good idea for him to get away from what we were doing for a while." This last part was added more subconsciously, her voice quieting a bit as she allowed her eyes to slip half-way closed, and her mind to wander just a bit. Until her old companion took the smallest step toward her and spoke her name softly, inquisitively. Then she straightened and blinked up at him, a little embarrassed. "What?"

One eyebrow lifted a little as he peered at her, but after a moment, he relaxed again and once more linked his hands behind his back habitually. "Would you like a tour of the school, as well? Or would you prefer to rest? I imagine it's been quite a long trip."

Raine cast a glance back toward the academy, considering in silence. She was curious about the interior, naturally - but it was going to be evening soon, and there were still a great many people milling about it. She was growing tired, and it seemed as though they would be in the way, trying to explore. "...I think I'll let Genis do the 'touring' for now," she finally replied. "It will give him time to get familiar with it and accustomed to navigating it by himself. And it has been...quite a long day."

Regal nodded. "I'm getting ready to call it a day, myself. If you'd like, I'll walk back with you."

"...As I am not entirely certain where I'm going, I would appreciate that," she mused. "Thank you."

"Of course." He motioned her before him and fell into step with her, and for a few moments, as the shadows around them began to lengthen, and the crowds to slowly thin out, they walked along the unblemished streets in an amiable silence. Raine took in the city's new sights, holding limply to her right wrist with the other hand, both palms turned inward, while Regal very consciously kept a slow, steady stride for her benefit. Once in a while, he would gesture or nod vaguely at something to point it out, but still no words were spoken for quite some time. Surprisingly enough, it was the Duke himself who broke the quiet at long last.

"You must get uncomfortably warm, wearing clothing like that in this kind of weather."

Understandably, his words startled and confused her in the same right. They sounded completely random, and that was something she had not come to expect from this particular man. She blinked and raised her eyes to look at him. His own gaze, however, was still directed ahead of them. His pace never faltered, his expression never twitched. "...Pardon?"

"It gets hot here this time of year, as I'm certain you well know."

"...Yes... It always has on the southern coast. What does that have to do with anything?" She fixed him with a suspicious, studious glower. She was beginning to think that this was anything but random.

"It simply made me curious as to why you would choose your present attire in heat like this. You must have been walking a good distance, no matter where you came from. It cannot have been a pleasant experience in clothing like that. Genis seemed to be dressed appropriately - but you are not. Forced to wear these clothes as I am, I know how uncomfortable it can be."

It was true. The slightly fitted cotton shirt she wore against her black slacks sported a high collar, only the topmost button unfastened at the notch of her neck, and sleeves that stretched down slightly past each wrist. Next to Genis, dressed in a loose t-shirt and long shorts, she looked more at home in the arctic village of Flanoir than the coastal city of Palmacosta. She had not exactly expected commentary on it, though. Not from Regal. Not in this manner. Unlike the casual confusion that would have ridden the query had it come from someone like Lloyd, there was a suspicion in Regal's tone. There was motive. A muscle in her jaw tightened, but otherwise, she kept her face impassive. "I suppose. I simply prefer this style of clothing. Chalk it up to a matter of taste, if you'd like."

"Is personal taste a good enough reason to potentially bring harm to yourself?" he asked diplomatically.

"Perhaps you should tell me. I imagine it gets worse in an ensemble like that, and yet you wear it."

"I have little choice," mused Regal. "Another occupational hazard. There are few rewards in my line of work, Raine. But my question still stands, and it is probably best that you stop trying to avoid it."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I haven't avoided it," she replied evenly. "I prefer these clothes. And, to be honest, I'm not sure why it matters so greatly to you. I never took you to have much investment in fashion."

"Fashion? Hardly." Though he kept walking, and his posture never wavered, he finally turned his head to look down at her pointedly. "The well-being of a friend, however, is a different matter entirely. That is a topic worthy of close attention."

She shook her head. "I think I'll be fine," she stated, dryly. "I won't be here long enough-"

"Did you have it treated, Raine?"

Again, she was caught off-guard. Artificial lights were springing to life along the path as the sun continued to fall, and they finally stopped walking in front of a shop that had just closed. "...Have what treated?"

"What you're attempting to hide."

"What are you talking about, Regal?"

"You shied away when I kissed your hand; every inch of your body is concealed, save for your face and your hands. Not once since I came upon you earlier have you allowed your right palm to show, while your left has seemed completely free in movement. The way you scratched your right shoulder before." He lifted his own hand to demonstrate, holding her gaze. "And the way you hold the same wrist now in your other hand."

It was almost funny. She would have bet anything that he was the only person from their old group that would have picked up on any of that, let alone pieced it together to form some sort of conclusion. And yet, while everything he had said was valid and true, she still shook her head. "I take it you don't put much stock in coincidences," she replied. She did inadvertently scratch her palm, however - and that did not seem to escape his notice, either.

"...Forgive me, Raine. I apologize for this." Before she had a chance to wonder, let alone question aloud, he had reached out and firmly taken her right hand in his, pulling it back toward him and twisting his own wrist to turn her palm upward. She cursed mentally and closed her eyes, pursing her lips. In silence, she allowed him to examine it. Like she had any choice.

In her palm, and trailing up to disappear beneath the fabric of her sleeve, there was a rugged strip of unhealthy, scarred tissue; a burn. It was not brand new - a few months old at this point, probably - but it was still not exactly a pleasant sight to behold. With a gentle touch almost seeming to contradict his appearance, Regal carefully pushed her sleeve back a bit. When she finally met his gaze again with a hard one of her own, he was staring at her, his brow creased. "...Your entire arm?" he asked quietly, gravely, after a long stretch of silence.

"It reaches to my shoulder, yes."

"Are you in pain?" His grip on her hand finally relaxed, and she drew it back.

"No."

The Duke watched her, and she could see a puzzled concern in every worry line etched across the face that had worn far too many frowns over the years. Mostly to break the gaze that was beginning to feel uncomfortable, Raine looked down and resituated her sleeve over the brand. "You're getting worked up over something silly, Regal. I'm surprised."

"What happened, Raine?"

She sighed. "It was nothing-"

"What happened?" he repeated, firmly. "I may not know you well, Raine, but I know you better than that. If it had been nothing, you would not try so hard to brush it off. You have a history of keeping important things to yourself. It is a terrible habit. I know; I share it." He lowered his voice again. "What happened?"

...She knew this man was no fool. Closing her offended hand into a fist and cradling it with the other, she looked downward for a moment. "Some things don't change," she stated at length, her voice quiet now, too. "We knew it was going to be difficult when we started. We knew it was dangerous. I knew."

His expression shifted slowly from concern and confusion to ghastly understanding. "You were attacked?" he clarified, his tone as gravel.

Raine finally met his eyes again, a bit of ice in her own. "A few excitable men grew very disgruntled to have Genis and myself 'poisoning the minds of the younger generations' with our 'filthy, evil revolution'." A humorless smirk tugged at one side of her mouth. "They threatened us in order to chase us away; we were leaving the next day anyway. That night, however, I left Genis at the ho-...inn, and went to respond to a request for help. I was told someone needed medical attention. I did not realize that that 'someone' would later turn out to be me."

Regal's face was the picture of horror. "You were not, by any chance, about to say 'hotel'...were you?" he asked softly. "...Altamira...?"

Curse her verbal stumble. This was not the man to tell that one had been attacked in his town. She wouldn't insult him by denying anything this time, though. Instead, she held up her hand - her left hand - and shook her head. "It wasn't one of your people," she assured him firmly. The Lezareno employees knew better, she was quite sure. Not everyone who worked under Regal understood or appreciated their president's sentiments toward half-elves, or even toward Sylvarant, but anyone who hadn't left of their own accord could tolerate it, and they would never dare to show any kind of outward prejudice. He had trained his people well.

Even so, she could tell that her words were of fairly minor comfort to him. Embers of restrained anger smoldered in a normally mild gaze - along with a sincere, almost desperate, apology. "Raine... I'm sorry," he rasped at length, after he seemed to find his voice again. "I didn't know. A great deal has happened, it seems, since I've been here. This is appalling. Altamira is supposed to be safe."

"Everywhere in Tethe'alla is 'supposed' to be safe. The laws regarding half-elves were repealed a few months after the reunification, thanks to Zelos. But rules and regulations only go so far. They can't change people." Her countenance shifted as exhaustion both physical and mental set in.

The sun had almost completely set by now, and the evening breeze was cool and gentle. She turned her head to look out over the harbor in the distance. The city lights reflected off the water, shimmering with its lazy movement. It was so peaceful here, so beautiful. After three years of constant traveling, stress, danger, conflict, and prejudice, nights like these were precious and refreshing. "It really is incredible," she murmured after another brief silence.

The half-elf watched from the corner of her eye as Regal followed her gaze. His own voice lowered, he gave a simple agreement. "...Yes."

Raine lifted her hands to rub her face, suddenly wanting very much to just fall back against the nearest wall. When she felt her balance start to fail, however, she snapped herself abruptly out of the reverie. Drawing herself back up to a stiff, dignified posture, she smoothed her shirt and looked back up at her old colleague. The little smile she gave him was meaningless. "Thank you again. I'm glad Genis has a place to study again - and a chance to do it."

Regal met her eyes with a polite dip of his head. There was a knowing in his face, though, as though he didn't buy a second of her cool facade, but would play along out of simple respect. "Where will you go now?" he asked softly.

She looked away again. "...I'm not sure yet. Perhaps back to Iselia; perhaps not. Time will tell, I suppose."

"I suppose. Raine... May I ask you a question?"

One eyebrow arched, she folded her arms across her middle against the breeze - or perhaps the question itself. The things he had been asking this evening had been less than innocent. "What is it?"

He was watching her closely now, with that same scrutiny as before. It was gentle, it was insightful. It was unnerving. "Why _did_ you decline the invitation to teach here? You were the very first candidate I thought of. I hesitated to ask you at first, being aware of the journey you were on with your brother, but I suggested they extend the offer regardless. But if Genis was going to study here anyway...why not take the position? You said yourself you don't know what to do now. The two of you could stay together. Certainly, it would benefit all of the students. I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

Raine was silent. Many things flashed through her mind, none of which she felt any inclination whatsoever to share in this moment. Each possible response was weighed carefully, thought through, and then discarded. It was several minutes before she came up with something suitable, and, with a face as cool and impassive as she had ever been, she just shook her head. "It's personal."

Suitable for one of them, anyway. The duke looked less than satisfied for a few seconds, before he himself relaxed into a calm sort of resignation. He bowed his head once more and took a symbolic, little step backwards, hands behind his back. "I apologize if I have overstepped my boundaries," he offered, a true ambassador through and through. "As well as keeping you out later than you wished, I'm certain. Your brother will likely find himself being ushered from the academy soon, and no doubt you are both tired."

She was relieved, and had she had more tendency toward outward emotions, it might have shown in her posture. She knew he wasn't stupid; but he was also the epitome of respect and courtesy. Because she had, in her own way, asked him to, he would drop the subject. For this, too, she was grateful to the man. "Thank you, Regal," was her response. She was relatively confident that he saw that for what it was, as well, particularly when he offered her a slight, empathetic smile and began walking again. Drawing a deep breath, she fell into step with him.

"Here." At last, he stopped before a tall, handsome building wth the telltale sign hanging above the door. Regal opened that door and held it for her. "When I see your brother, I will direct him this way."

"Thank you." Raine nodded at him, but as she started to pass him, she paused and lowered her voice. "...Please don't mention anything we spoke of tonight around Genis. Particularly not the incident in Altamira. Don't even try to apologize for it." She didn't even look at him, but rather at the ground under her feet.

He blinked, apparently startled and a bit confused at her request. After a moment, though, he nodded slowly. "...Very well. I will not say a word."

"...Thank you." With that, and without awaiting a response, she slipped past him and disappeared into the inn.

The last thing she needed was Genis' reaction to that. She would never get him to stay here and study.

* * *

><p>Oh, Raine. There you go, being all emotionally constipated and secretive and stuff. I guess that's just part of your charm, though.<p>

Raine: It has nothing to do with trying to be "charming". I prefer my privacy.

Uh-huh. I think you're just insecure.

Raine: I'm not a teenage girl. I don't have angst, and I'm not insecure.

Deni~al.

Raine: Would you stop that? Honestly!

...heehee. Drabble.

Raine: -sigh-


	3. Chapter 3

BADUM! New chapter! :D

Raine: Accursed review…

No, Raine, we like reviewers. That inspire us out of the pit of our writer's block.

Raine: So all I need to do is find a way to disable reviews, and you'll cease this torment?

Do it, and I'll put you in spandex and have you cosplaying Yggdrassil.

Raine: …Oh Martel.

XD

* * *

><p>That evening had seen a very pointed letter penned and sealed in the dim light of a desk lamp by a steady, well-practiced, and irate hand. He had been appalled to learn of such an abominable fate awaiting his own friend, in <em>his own town. <em>It was unacceptable, and something would be done to address it. Altamira owed her that much; he owed her that much. But as he placed his seal upon it, he paused in motion and turned it over to peer unseeing at its face. The back of his hand coming to rest against the surface of his desk, he leaned back slowly in his chair and allowed his mind to wander back a few hours into the past.

_"It's personal."_

_ "Laws can't change people."_

_ "You're getting worked up over something silly, Regal. I'm surprised."_

_ "Some things never change."_

Regal gently laid the letter on his desk to await the first morning light, when it could be sent off with a courier on the early departure of one of the shipping lines, and rose to his feet. Pacing slowly toward the window, he peered out and upward to scan the sky. Something bothered him. Through all her words and every movement, there had been…something. Even despite her predictable and characteristic attempts to hide behind the mask he recognized, they both knew there was more to it. It was not just the face value of this one, isolated incident. She had been exhausted, and there was scarring there that went beyond the physical. And Genis did not even know? Could not know?

He closed his eyes and shook his head. It was not his place to presume so much as to meddle in matters she so clearly wanted to keep private. He worried for her, and undoubtedly would continue to worry for her, but as much as it unsettled him, he was all but powerless. All he could do was as much as propriety and courtesy would allow; and at the moment, duty demanded that he ensure Altamira's full repentance, perhaps a public apology from the ones responsible – though that was unlikely. They could have been guests, and that meant a ludicrously long and complicated search through records to find them. Regal narrowed his eyes before they closed entirely, and he turned his face away in angry regret. Justice was a cruel and unreliable master at times.

…His bed was calling. It had been a long day, and brooding over matters not even within his own control would accomplish nothing. So, as he tugged loose the ribbon holding back his hair, he closed the window and retreated across the floor, only stopping to extinguish his lamp. Sleep found him easily and in short order after he had crawled into bed, and he submitted willingly with his mind still on that defeated face, and the pain it brought to see.

He awoke the next morning, as usual, at the first few rays of dawn. Activity was starting to resume through the rest of the inn, as told by the subtle footsteps of maids shuffling about, and the businessman in him was well-accustomed to rising early. There was more to do here than even back at Headquarters, and sometimes it seemed there were not enough hours within the day in which to accomplish his agenda. Accordingly, his internal clock had shifted slightly, and he was convinced that his sleep was lighter these days because of it. It never helped, though, when he retired the prior night while in heavy thought.

Regal freed himself from the bedclothes and stretched, drawing in a deep breath to clear the lingering cobwebs before he slipped into the washroom. The first order of business was, of course, a thorough shower, warm enough to be tolerable but leaning to the cooler side; it was an effective wake-up call, and part of his morning routine. He had been called a masochist, and given many of his life choices and circumstances, perhaps such a case could be argued, but he preferred the term, "practical". He was not a man to often indulge himself.

Clean and now alert, he toweled his hair and dressed himself before the full-length mirror set up against one wall. As he lifted his chin to straighten the tie, the Duke peered thoughtfully at his own reflection. Something occurred to him: if Genis was staying here but Raine was not, she would be on her own wherever she went after leaving. And given that she herself had admitted to not yet deciding where she would go, and in light of her story, there was no guarantee that where she ended up, or the journey to get there, would be safe for her.

Was he comfortable with that?

Regal lowered his hands slowly, his frown subtle but pensive. It was not his place to get involved, as he had determined the night before. However, perhaps for her own good, he would mention his concerns. He could not force her into any action, of course; but maybe he could convince her to be cautious, at least. Maybe he could even do something to ensure her safe passage somewhere. Being the president of a company had its advantages, after all. A guarded escort would be impractical and insulting to the woman in question, but there was nothing wrong with booking some kind of passage for her convenience.

It was with these intentions that Regal descended the stairs that morning to start his early day. He nodded a good natured greeting to the maids and other guests he passed and stepped out into the sunlight, pausing for a brief moment to enjoy the pleasant, coastal warmth. It was a climate he was well used to by now. Altamira was no winter wonderland. It also didn't have the same peaceful air about it as did this city, though. Oh, his resort would always have his favor out of biased pride, but one could hardly deny the beauty of a rose, even if one admires the lily.

On his way through the streets, he was surprised at something he saw. Or rather, someone. There on a bench near the Academy sat the object of so many of his musings herself. One leg was crossed over the other, her back straight in a dignified posture; a book lay in her lap supported by one hand, the other only occasionally lifting to turn a page as she read through a veil of hair tossed by the lazy breeze. His brow arched a little higher. Already up, this early? Well, perhaps that made his mission that much easier to accomplish.

The man approached his old companion, his hands once more linked behind his back. His pace was easy, and when he came to a halt beside her bench, he rested one hand along the wooden back. "Good morning," he greeted. "You're certainly an early riser, aren't you?"

Raine glanced upward. Closing her book gently on one finger, she leaned back slightly to dip her head in her own acknowledgment. "I've always been a morning person by nature. Without Lloyd to drag it out, dawn can once again come early." There was no hint of last night's conversation in her voice, in her posture, or in her expression. She was the picture of perfect calm, as cool and stable as ever. Her offended hand, however, lay palm-down in her lap, and she had once more opted for lengthy sleeves.

Regal chuckled slightly. "Is your brother as quick to wake as you are?"

One slender eyebrow lifted. "Only when he has to be," she replied dryly.

"No doubt that has been often these past years, I daresay."

She marked her place more permanently and smoothed the cover of her book closed. "Neither of us particularly liked staying in one place for very long during our journey, for more reasons than one. We were accustomed to getting up at the first light and going on our way." Raine shifted a bit to more easily face him, though he caught the movement only from the corner of his eye. His gaze scanned the cloud-spotted sky briefly, instead, listening to her speak. "You're up and about early, yourself. Another occupational hazard?" the half-elf quipped.

One corner of his mouth twitched at the subtle joke, and he looked down at her with a slight nod of his head. "Few rewards," he repeated. "Going back to your brother, is he nearby?" It was strange to see one Sage without the other.

Sure enough, she gave a vague nod toward the Academy building. "Official enrollment and registration begins today. Genis is inside getting settled. In a few days, I'll be leaving, and he'll be on his own." A pause, and she shook her head with a quietly added, "Strange."

"Your days might get quieter," Regal observed, though after a beat amended more to himself, "Or perhaps not." His concerns about her solitude still stood.

Casually, as he shifted his weight a little to find a more comfortable position, he introduced the subject. "Have you decided yet where you'll go from here?" His eyes shifted briefly to her, gauging her reaction subtly like the politician and businessman he was, but his face remained impassive and politely interested.

Raine drew a slow breath and set her book gently beside her. "Yes, actually. For now, at least, I will be heading to Sybak. I've heard about several books there that I've been wanting to get my hands on for a while now."

Sybak. Regal turned the concept over in his mind a bit. It was a town not given to affection toward her people, and the idea of her traveling there alone didn't do much to ease his misgivings. If anything, he was more determined now than ever to ensure her well-being. Perhaps he was again overstepping his bounds, but having her harbor some animosity toward him was a small price to pay if it meant she would be safe.

His face betraying none of this inner analysis, he instead nodded slightly with a faint, knowing smile. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, should I?" He straightened up and came around to her other side, where there was an empty space on the bench large enough for him to sit and still leave ample distance between them. "Actually, it's fortunate that I found you. I wanted to speak with you about something."

She glanced at him. Her expression was cool, but he knew she had to be growing wary of his conversation by now. He had, after all, pried much further into her affairs than most people probably dared. The Duke met her gaze evenly, though, pressing forward. "It's a long trip to Sybak."

"I have plenty of time."

"Yes. But I would like to do what I can to ease the passing of that time." Regal leaned forward on his thighs, but he never broke eye contact. "Would you allow me to arrange passage to the other continent, Raine?"

Raine cocked an eyebrow in a familiar expression. "You don't have to do that, Regal. I'm a big girl; I can find my own means of transportation."

"I know you can," he replied diplomatically. "Most of the open sea routes are controlled by the Lezareno Group, however. It would be no trouble at all – quite the opposite, actually – to secure a ship." Oh, he was aware of just how much she hated the ocean. Unfortunately, it was the only way to get where she intended to go.

She shook her head. "You have enough to do here already without trying to become a travel agent for aimless wanderers."

Regal chuckled, and the two lapsed into a few moments of silence, mutually watching the people walking by. She was never one to ask for help, nor to accept it easily. He supposed they were similar on more levels than one.

At long last, after considering his options, he leaned back with a decision in his mind and a trick up his sleeve. "Actually, I do have some business that takes me that way. I wanted to spare myself the indignity of admitting it, but after so long surrounded by nothing but nobility and business affiliates, I was rather pleased to hear of our shared directions. The company of an old friend would be a welcome change. You would spare an old man from a very uninspiring voyage and provide some intelligent discourse, I'm sure."

There, now. Who could say no to that? Raine Sage was an independent woman, so to broach the subject as though she could not handle herself was a mistake. However, if he provided a more self-centered reason for her to accompany him, his victory was much more assured. Besides, this way, he would be able to look after her himself. Anyone with ill intent would be hard pressed to get to her through him. Perhaps he was being too protective, overly cautious, but her story had unnerved him. He did not want history repeating itself.

Raine glanced at him, her face as unreadable as he hoped his was. It was impossible to tell whether or not she saw through this story, and for a few seconds, they seemed to be performing a stationary dance around a proverbial ballroom, polite and graceful and scripted. Neither knowing quite what the other was thinking, seeing only the pretty and careful steps. Finally, she was the one to break the gaze as she straightened up and idly scratched her leg.

"I suppose it makes as much sense as anything else, if you're already planning to go."

There it was: his triumph. She had agreed – without a fight, no less. She would have a safe journey, despite the sailing, and he would get a chance to be up and away from this stage, if only for a little while. He hadn't been entirely untruthful; it was refreshing to have one of his companions around, and no doubt they could entertain each other with conversation. Therefore, Regal permitted himself a very small smile.

"I appreciate it." As she stood, so did he. She looked so slight and unimposing, standing at least six inches below him. Looks could indeed be deceiving. "There are some loose ends I would like to tie up here before we depart. You said you wanted to spend a few more days here with your brother, correct?"

She nodded and retrieved her book from the bench. "Classes begin shortly, but until then, we've decided to postpone our goodbyes."

"Very well. In that case, I've taken enough of your time. I'll let you know as soon as the arrangements are made." Regal almost picked up her hand habitually, but he managed to stop himself. It made her uncomfortable…and the only free hand she had happened to bear the memento of a nightmare.

He watched her go, cool and unaffected as always, and scratched the side of his jaw. Now…to arrange this alleged business.

* * *

><p>You two make such a good pair. You're both so quiet and secretive. But Regal's scheming around your isolation complex. :D<p>

Raine: I refuse to be part of this banter on the grounds that it may end up very horribly for me in the overflow of your deranged mind.

…You take all the fun out of everything, Prissy Pants.

Raine: -opens mouth- …-closes it- … -facepalm- Just go away.

Teehee. Look for the next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

I love you, Manna. That's about all I can say. Because of you, this chter has FINALLY BEEN FINISHED after spending MONTHS ROTTING AWAY HALF-WRITTEN in my database.

Raine: Yes. Let's all thank the lifeless reader who instigated this garbage.

You're so sweet, Raine. You know she loves you, too.

Raine: That alone is reason enough to hate her, given what _your _"love" for me has done.

Yeah, yeah. Just sit and watch the male bonding.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you're going to be okay, sis? Your life skills are a little…lacking." As he perched on the back of the bench outside his new school, feet resting on the smooth seat, he leaned forward against his thighs and fixed his older sister with a half-impertinent scrutiny. Oh, there was no denying how excited he was to be staying here, finally attending the academy that had promised him a place of honor for years. There was still the reality, though, that he had never in his life been separated from Raine by so much distance, and for so long a time. He wasn't going to see her again for a few months, at the very least, and while he recognized that he was old enough to take this step, and she was no kid either, it was still…odd.<p>

Raine folded her arms across her middle, standing there as she always did with exasperation on her face and well-hidden amusement in her eyes. "Thank you for that vote of confidence, Genis," she replied dryly. "I think I can probably manage to survive without you, yes."

Genis shook his head and draped his arms over his thighs. "Only if you never make your own lunch. You're a brilliant scientist, Raine. But as a chef, you're a budding serial killer."

"I am aware of your disdain for my culinary skills—"

"You don't _have _any culinary skills, dear sister. I can't have disdain for something that doesn't exist – hey, I'm just being honest for your own good!" The young man laughed, leaning back and out of reach of the swat he saw coming.

Still smiling, he slid down to sit on the bench like a normal person. Raine sat beside him, and he could feel her gaze on him before he saw it. When he met it, he tilted his head slightly in question, but she simply reached out with a sigh and a shake of her own to mess with his hair again. "Guh, woman." He batted her hand away and, simply to spite her, used both hands to cover his face with hair. "Geez. That's one thing I'm not going to miss. You need to go get married and have some kids so you can nag your family instead of me. You're such a mother." Habitually, he gave his head a jerk to clear at least one eye, unable to maintain the complete ape look indefinitely.

Raine pursed her lips, but she leaned back against the wood and crossed one leg over the other in apparent defeat. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but as my brother, I'm fairly certain you _are _my family."

Genis heaved a good-natured sigh and slid down, slumped a little on the bench. He knew how dismayed his sister was about all of these little quirks of his, yes. He didn't have to see her face to know the look that crossed over it at his horrendous posture. Ah, but they were siblings. It was their job to irritate one another. Wasn't that some unwritten rule somewhere? They were probably much closer than any other brother and sister out there, probably got along much better, but they were still, in fact, a brother and sister. Not to mention the fact that he was younger, so it was his duty to be a pain with an adorable smile.

"So. Regal, huh?" He linked his hands behind his head and looked up at the sky idly.

Raine glanced at him. "What about him?"

"Never knew you liked rich, important, older men. Ow! What the heck was that for?" His cheekiness had earned him a smart whack on the top of his head with a very unforgiving book. "I was kidding! Man. Maybe it's a good thing you don't have kids; you'd probably be charged with child abuse."

"I have my hands full with you."

"Not for long. You're leaving this afternoon." He paused, blinking, as his own words set in. The boy shifted back into a normal position and dropped his arms slowly to his lap. "…This afternoon." In a few hours, they would at last be separated. She would sail off with Duke Charming, and he would dazzle student and teacher alike with his unparalleled brilliance…and they would be separated.

Silence fell between them as they both considered his statement. Only the skittering of a few leaves across the stone nearby broke the stillness. Genis scratched his arm, staring at the ground between his feet. Was it silly that the idea worried him so much? He was halfway through his teenage years; he was _ready_ to be growing up. Still, somehow, knowing that the woman who had raised him, his only family, wouldn't be mere steps away anymore in just a few short hours… It was hard. He was worried. But the strangest part?

He was worried more for her than for himself.

"I'll be back."

He looked up as his sister's voice finally filled the quiet. Her eyes came down from the clouds to meet his, and despite the apparent lack of sentimentality in her expression, he had to smile a little at those eyes. She was going to miss him, too.

"I hope so," he chuckled. "I didn't figure you'd just dump me here and run. You'll want to butt into my grades too badly for that."

Raine shook her head. "I hardly think you'll need me to."

"I won't. But you'll still do it."

"Mm." She didn't really need to agree verbally. They both knew he was right. The younger Sage smiled absently; his sister scanned the sky in the same manner. A sort of wordless communication overtook them, comfortable and familiar – until an impulse grabbed hold of the boy, and, less figuratively, he grabbed hold of the woman beside him.

Genis leaned over and wrapped his arms about her from the side, resting his chin on her shoulder. Her body flinched under his touch, but that was hardly surprising; she wasn't exactly known for being touchy-feely. He felt entitled, though. "My big sister, going out into the world all by herself…" His face was as smug as his voice.

Raine cocked an eyebrow and turned her head to look down at him. "I will revel in the peace and quiet," was her dry response. "For once not to have a child to worry about… It should be quite a revelation."

"Oh, come on. I haven't been a _child _since I was seven and _Lloyd _entered the picture. Eh? Come on." He nudged her. "You know I'm right."

This provoked traces of a smile as she shook her head. "You're going to be fine," she mused, her left hand coming to flick at his hair for the umpteenth time that morning.

"As though there was ever any doubt. Hey, Regal!" Genis released his sister and sat up as, around her shoulders, he spotted the very man who was to be escort. One of his hands lifted up into the air in a hailing wave. Actually, it was a lucky break; if this guy was going to take over custody of Raine, there were some things the two of them needed to straighten out.

Raine glanced up and over at his exclamation, and her head inclined slightly in as animated a greeting as she ever gave anyone. The Duke had one arm bent and tucked away behind his back, while the other hand was resting at his pocket in a more casual appearance. An easy, diplomatic expression of contentment rode his features. Just the target for a little…heart to heart.

"Raine. Genis." He nodded to each in turn and then settled his gaze on the latter. "I hear classes are scheduled to begin this afternoon. Looking forward to starting your long-delayed academic career?"

"Yup. Looking forward to whisking my sister away into the horizon?" The mischievous boy found his satisfaction when Regal blinked in silence and Raine pressed her palm to her face. Without missing a beat or waiting for the inevitable slap, he hopped to his feet and jerked his head toward the human. "Walk with me, Regal."

He was aware that the two of them share a quick glance, but he folded his arms and waited until the older man slowly came to join him. Then, he began to amble away with someone twice his size in tow, across the city square and down toward the harbor. There was silence between them for a time, until at last, the mage came to a halt off to the side of the path. There he stood, hands linked atop his head, and peered out at the anchored boats. It seemed his temporary companion was inclined to let him take the reins of this conversation. That was only fair.

"Heading out, huh?"

"As soon as your sister is ready, there is a vessel waiting for us. I believe she wishes to see you off entirely first, however. You shouldn't worry; she won't depart without seeing you settled. Of that I am quite certain." He sounded almost amused.

"I grew up in Sylvarant. These people are my people. I've wanted to come to the Academy for _years_. I'm not really worried about getting myself settled in."

Regal arched one brow, though his posture remained straight and respectful. "Oh?" A beat. Then, more softly, "…You fear for her, then."

Genis rubbed his fingers through his hair. "Don't get me wrong. I have no idea what it's going to be like, out here on my own for the first time in my life. But Raine's never been alone, either. I'm going to be here, going to the school that's been begging me to attend since we heard about it. I'm a Hero of Regeneration – or whatever the heck they're calling us now." Here the boy chuckled a bit. He had to admit: it was pretty cool to have such an impressive title. "But she's going out into the world. She said she was heading to Sybak. The only reason I didn't have a conniption when she told me _that_ was…" Subtly, he let his eyes shift toward Regal.

"Because I will be with her?" the other finished almost gently.

Genis turned back to the water. "If she had said she was going to Sybak by herself, I would have known she'd lost her mind completely. Things are supposed to have changed, but I'd be lying if I said I trusted that city or anyone in it with someone like…us."

Regal finally stepped up so they stood side by side, his fingers woven together behind his back. Both gazes searched the lazy horizon. "Your sister is a very capable woman, Genis. She would never place herself intentionally in harm's way, and I daresay she is quite the force to be reckoned with, having seen evidence of this firsthand during our journey." A touch of wryness had entered his tone.

The boy made half of a grin. "You put it a lot more eloquently than I would." The grin faded. "…But I'm not stupid. I know she's strong; I've always looked up to her and depended on her. But things have changed. Something has changed. She's quieter lately, she holds herself strangely, and it just feels like she's guarded sometimes when we talk. It's not that noticeable, and I doubt anyone else would see it—but I know my sister. And I know she's not invincible. As much as she likes to pretend she's all tough and…whathaveyou, she's just not. That's why I want to make sure she'll be okay."

Regal had been quiet and attentive, rubbing his jaw near the end of this speech. He nodded ever so slightly, thoughtfully, and closed his eyes. "No one is invincible. You needn't fear for her, Genis; I swear to you, no harm will befall her whilst we remain together. You can rest assured."

"Glad to hear it. I'll hold you to that." His hands dropped to his sides, though, and he rounded on the human with an evil glower. "But that doesn't mean I want you getting _any _ideas about _my sister_."

It seemed to take Regal a moment to comprehend what kind of "ideas" were being implied; but when he did, that same stunned blink overtook his face. He did look as though he tried subsequently to smother a bit of a chuckle afterward, and he lifted one hand a little. "I will protect her as I would any other friend. I have no intention of dishonoring her, or betraying your confidence in me with such a depraved agenda."

"That, and I'd toast your butt if you so much as sneezed at her the wrong way."

This time the chuckle escaped unhindered. "Yes, that too."

Genis eyed him up and down, studying his countenance and the kind, knowing expression. Finally, he held out a hand and allowed the nobleman to shake it. "Alright. You're clean. Just keep her out of trouble – and away from everything over the age of sixty. _That's _for _your _good."

Another quiet bout of laughter. "I'll remember."

As they walked together back toward the city's heart, Genis watched the clouds. He was more or less satisfied; he had made his point to his sister's caretaker, and he was reasonably assured of her well-being. Now it was just a matter of saying goodbye.

* * *

><p>D'awww. Little Bro feels better now. :D<p>

Raine: How very nice for him.

And Regal's given his word to be a perfect gentleman.

Raine: Thank Martel for that.

Yeah, well. He doesn't understand the point of my fictions. All. My fictions.

Raine: ...-sigh-

Teehee!


	5. Chapter 5

Manna's so super awesome. You can all thank her (or yell at her, depending) for getting me off my proverbial butt to write these chapters.

Raine: Oh, she will get what she deserves. Never you fear.

...From anyone else, that might sound sweet. From you...yeah. I'd start running, Manna... BUT FIRST!

Raine: Don't do it, Maiya...

MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Raine: And you do it anyway. -rubs ear-

What? Just being you :D -flee-

* * *

><p>He couldn't, when all was said and done, claim that he was sorry to go—or really that he held any regret at all. As it came time to leave, and he watched in satisfaction all of the pesky, little loose ends wrap themselves up, he could say with confidence and conviction that he was looking forward to stepping back from Palmacosta, even just for a short time. The circumstances which had brought about this little trek were far from ideal, but perhaps good could come out of it not just for him, but even for Raine. There was merit in taking the occasional vacations, as he had often been reminded (ignoring, of course, the fact that he never tended to listen). Certainly it had never seemed to ring truer than this afternoon. His mood was content, his spirit even perhaps slightly elevated. It was with the smallest subconscious smile that he surveyed the vessel that would carry him and his companion across the sea to Sybak.<p>

Regal linked his hands behind his back. His eyes followed the movements of the crew as they loaded and inspected their own ship. It was a Tethe'allan craft, of course—a commodity, indirectly, of his own company; he was pleased to see, though, several ambitious Sylvaranti seamen among them. Even a minor, perhaps insignificant show of cooperation was encouraging. He rather liked seeing his people reaching out to teach their new neighbors. Several young men from Palmacosta would be joining them on this voyage, if only to refine the trade they all undoubtedly intended to set up for themselves.

"M'Lord." Thumbs tucked into his belt, the captain of the ship he stood admiring ambled toward him, sending a glance over his shoulder to follow the nobleman's gaze. Half of a smile settled in amidst the rough, salt-and-pepper stubble surrounding his mouth. "You look like a true-born sailor, standing here, staring at 'er. Got that call in your eyes."

Regal chuckled softly. "I don't enjoy Altamira for the throngs of tourists, Captain," he mused. "I used to live for sailing as a boy. That was some time ago, however."

"Aye, for the both of us." The man rubbed his chin and resituated his cap after running his fingers through his greying hair. "Daresay I've still got some years on you, though. You're _still _a boy, far as I'm concerned." The political game caught him, and not without a fair bit of cheek in his tone, he added, "Sir."

Over the many, many months of Palmacosta's reconstruction, he had established quite a rapport with a few key members of his extended team, and Captain Meyers was no exception. Beyond shops and homes, the city also required at least a few boats to get their trade routes reestablished; Meyers had more than overseen that project. He had gone back and forth in his own deliveries, but only two or three times. Most of his energy had been spent equipping the budding sea-goers with both tools and the skills to use them. Regal was grateful—but he was also well aware that Meyers and his crew were bound to be restless by now. They all had families and homes in Tethe'alla, after all.

The duke shook his head. "They say age brings wisdom," he mused in reply.

"Then I must be the smartest man alive." He flashed that handsome half-grin of his. It was probably a good thing the man was married; he was no expert on the affairs of women—thank the goddess—but it seemed to Regal that the charm his colleague exuded could very easily be turned against many an unwitting maiden, with likely less than favorable results.

Regal inclined his head back toward the ship. "Your men certainly look happy to be going home."

Meyers turned to survey his crew. "Most of 'em haven't seen their sweeties almost since we first got out here. The rest of us just hate staying in one place."

"Well, with any luck, we'll be underway soon. After we make port near Sybak, I would encourage you to return to Altamira and give yourself and your crew some time off."

"Aye. You must be missing the old island, too, I'd wager. How long do you expect your business at the Academy will last, if I might ask? I'd like something to tell the boys."

There was a pause as Regal considered the question, and all of the unspoken factors that weighed upon his reply. His original intention had been simply to see Raine safely to the university town—at least, his conscious intention. But even Genis had expressed concern for her even _being _there by herself. Of course he would remain with her. The uncertainty lay with her own inclinations, however: how long would _she _want to stay? He couldn't just leave her. He wouldn't. It went against every instinct and manner of propriety.

In the end, he shook his head again. "I can't say," he finally replied, ever the diplomat. "It will depend. You needn't worry about anything but dropping us off there; in due time, when I am finished, I will find my own way back. Yours may be the crown jewel of our compliment, but it is not the only ship. Besides, I am admittedly in no hurry."

"Who is this mystery guest of yours, anyway? Bringing home a Sylvaranti souvenir, are we? The girls here are quite a picture; I would be surprised if at least half a dozen hadn't taken a shine to you already. But could it be that Tethe'alla's most eligible bachelor has finally found a skirt to chase himself?" He certainly was a bold one, wasn't he?

After an awkward cough and a bemused, little smile, Regal sighed quietly. "Nothing of the sort. I hardly think I need a souvenir; I've begun to feel as though I have a second home in this port. As for the young women here, yes, they are pretty. And deserving of far better than a man already quite married to his work. I would not tarnish a beautiful woman so selfishly as to force my own company upon her."

"Ah, but you're too hard on yourself, M'Lord. The lovely damsels aren't swooning because of the weather, I can assure you." His grin had turned wicked, and inwardly Regal heaved another silent sigh. He was so often the butt of this kind of well-meaning but uncomfortable joke. Somehow, the realm of romance seemed to be one he had long since left behind. Alicia's memory played significantly into that—but so did his own inhibitions and respect, even concern, for the women around him. He had yet to find a woman of whose attentions he felt himself worthy, or who inspired in him that sense of devotion that would push him onward despite those insecurities. One could argue that he didn't let himself near enough to anyone to discover that devotion, but thus far, conscious or not, he was quite more comfortable that way. Besides, he did have great responsibilities. It wouldn't be _right_ to drag someone into the sea of business and politics with which he was forced to contend.

"In any case…" A pointed shift of topic? Surely not. "I am accompanying an old friend on this leg of her journey. I could use a temporary distraction, and I could not pass up the opportunity to reunite with at least one of my former companions. She is to be our honored guest; I would like to make her voyage as painless as possible."

Dark eyebrows arched subtly, no doubt at the words "her," and "she," but Meyers held his tongue in an act of mercy. Instead, he focused on the other part of the statement. "Painless as possible?" he echoed. "I take it she's not much for sailing?"

"…You could say that," Regal mused. "She has quite the aversion to traveling by sea." Something occurred to him, and he lowered his voice a bit. "It is also something of a touchy subject. I would appreciate it if…"

The captain lifted one hand. "Say no more. I would never antagonize a lady, let alone a heroine. Don't worry. We should have nothing but smooth sailing from here to the eastern continent. And speaking of…" Meyers glanced over his ship again. "I should probably make sure everything's in order. You and your companion are welcome to board at any time; we'll leave when you're ready. Most of your belongings should already have been loaded." Touching his shoulder lightly, he gave a bow—the first true sign of courtly respect the man had shown—and promptly made his way down toward the pier again.

Regal watched him go, lingering there for a moment longer as he permitted himself one final chuckle. Blessed, was he, after all he had seen and done, with such fine colleagues and acquaintanceships. Ah, but it was time. The sooner they were underway, the sooner they could leave the ocean behind for Raine's sake.

He turned his back to the harbor and climbed the stairs back toward the heart of the city to find her and, if she was ready, take her to their vessel. When he came upon her, she was sitting beside her brother on the steps outside the grand academy. A small carry-on sat on her lap, her arms folded over it as she and Genis conversed. He rather hated to interrupt, and so for a moment he stood politely to one side. He was noticed in short order, though, and both sets of violet eyes turned his way. Only then did he step a little closer. "I apologize… Our ship is nearly ready to set sail." Regal nodded back toward the docks.

Brother and sister looked back at each other in a silent gaze which again made him feel briefly like an intruder. They at last rose to their feet, though, and Genis formed half of a smile. "'Bout time you left. How am I supposed to start the wild parties with my _sister _around?"

Raine cocked an eyebrow. "I had better hear about nothing of the sort from your teachers." It was subtle, but the duke thought he could detect a level of amusement in her voice, as though everyone present knew that the very idea was preposterous.

"We'll see." The boy gave a casual, cheeky shrug with one shoulder. His smile widened, though, and he wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, the two stood there in the embrace that was silent but still, somehow, rather moving for the man watching. Seeing Raine, her cheek resting against the side of her little brother's head, her arms holding him close... It was just the barest glimpse into a side she kept well hidden. It was endearing, in its own way, this meaningful hug. He couldn't help but smile knowingly.

"Behave yourself," commanded the woman in her coolest tone as they separated. "I expect letters."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't forget me when you're cuddling all those books in Sybak. And don't bring back any Tethe'allan men. I don't want to find out I'm a brother-in-law without my permission."

"Yes, sir." This was given with a roll of her eyes. She tucked unruly hair behind his subtly pointed ear just one more time with a gentle touch that, to a sensitive eye, would be irrefutably affectionate. "Get inside. You have work to do."

"Loads of it." The young mage looked positively triumphant about this, a fact which amused Regal but did not surprise him. Two of a kind, the siblings Sage. "Take care of yourselves. Try to stay out of trouble. Remember our little chat, Regal—and for the love of Martel and all things holy, Bryant, _don't let my sister near a kitchen_." With this final admonition—and without giving the woman in question time to mount her indignant reply—Genis slipped through the academy's doors and out of sight. The last time the two of them would see each other for a long time. A big moment…despite the exasperated sigh released from the elder sister.

Regal tried to hide his smile, and succeeded in mouth but not quite in eye. He extended his arm and bent ever so slightly as he motioned her past him. "My Lady."

Raine eyed him. There was silence for a few seconds, but she finally settled the strap of her bag on her shoulder (her good shoulder, he noted unconsciously and despite himself) and began to walk. It would be an interesting trip, indeed.

* * *

><p>You have no idea, Regal. You have nooooo idea. Heeheehee.<p>

Raine: Please don't start again. Every time you laugh, horrid things happen.

It ain't the laughter, Rainsipoo. It's the-

Raine: -deranged-

-mind. Hurhur. You should have thought of this before you were AWESOME.

Raine: What kind of logic...?

Don't bother, hun. There is no logic in the minds of fic writers. It's a requirement for us to be absolutely, certifiably insane!

Raine: Lovely.

YEAH. Alright, Manna. Keep up the good work!


	6. Chapter 6

AHAHAHA. It's totally not 2 AM. I totally haven't been trying to finish this chapter for the last, like, 4 hours.

Raine: -rubs eyes-

...Awwww...she seepy!

Raine: Shut up and post the blasted chapter, idiot, so we may all retire and actually sleep like normal people.

Dude. Raine. Writers. By definition, we're not normal-never mind that I'm a FANFICTION writer.

Raine: Maiya. I'm warning you. I am tired. I want to sleep. Post. Your chapter.

Yaaaawwwwwwwn. Yeah, okay. After all, we can't have Manna shedding those tears of crystal angst...

* * *

><p>Sybak simply had to be on the other side of the ocean. She had had to pick a destination that could <em>only <em>be reached by ship. Curse the wonderful library and the incredible collection of literature, history, and knowledge it contained. At least, once here, she would not have to sail again for some time. There were enough books in the university town to keep her quite happily occupied for months. Provided Genis did not need her in the meantime. But she highly doubted he would; he was growing up. He knew how to handle himself. She had faith in him. He didn't need her.

Raine glanced over her shoulder as she walked next to her escort—for escort he was. Whether he actually had business in Sybak was anyone's guess, but she had her suspicions. Why he should suddenly decide to up and leave, why he insisted upon arranging passage. Regal Bryant was a clever man, but she was a clever woman. Some said a woman's intuition was uncanny, too. Perhaps he never stood a chance, then.

And yet, she reflected as her gaze again turned forward, perhaps she was not sorry. In one way, it rather irritated the independent woman to think that she was seen to need such a guard-dog as the one keeping steady pace at her side—but in the same right, a part of her was glad for the company in light of the new and alien silence she would face without her borther. And Martel only knew how she would fare trying to sail across the ocean on her own.

Speaking of which… Raine lifted her eyes to behold the grandest vessel in the port, and she felt that telltale flutter rise in her gut. Of course she hid the signs of anxiety from her practical face, at least for now.

From her peripheral, she caught Regal's glance. "You must be proud," he remarked easily, a complete dodge of any uncomfortable subject. "Of Genis, that is."

The woman shifted her bag with her unblemished hand. The other, in unconscious habit, remained all but attached to her side. "I am," she replied evenly. "He is, as you said before, growing up."

Regal quirked a small smile. "This should be a wonderful experience, not only for him, but perhaps even for the academy itself. If they can't have the unparalleled brilliance of both brother and sister, at least they have the benefit of one Sage."

"The way he is going, he may just be teaching there himself soon."

"Following in your footsteps?"

"I can only hope he never finds himself with another incarnation of Lloyd Irving sleeping in the back of his classroom," she replied dryly.

Any conversation passed between them passed in just this way, now: casual, light and shallow, with sugar sprinkled over the mutual guard they both perpetually and automatically kept over their words, expressions, and tones of voice. Perhaps he had shown just how dangerous he could be to her carefully held secrets. Perhaps he made her nervous. Or perhaps she was simply being herself, and he the same.

"Here we are." Regal gestured to the ramp they were coming up to, and once more, as her eyes caught the rolling waves beneath the wooden planks across which they were so haphazardly stepping. They were moving directly over the harbor now, and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep herself breathing and walking at the same time. Perhaps, again, it was good that Regal was there—not because he offered comfort, but because her dignity resisted the appearance of fear and weakness in front of any other person. Besides, what was she going to do, back out and stay here?

Regal placed his hand behind her, holding it at the small of her back while just managing not to touch her. The two of them stepped up to the base of the ramp, where a man in uniform stood waiting. A relaxed smile overtook his features at their approach, and he tipped his hat ever so slightly. "Lord Bryant. …Ma'am." His eyes scanned each of them in turn, and out of raw instinct she felt a few muscles tense when his gaze met hers. But she nodded in return, composedly.

"Captain Meyers. This is my companion, Miss Raine Sage." Regal introduced her like a proper gentleman, using the designation of a proper lady, and it was an alien sound. Professor, certainly. Miss? Lady? Strange.

"Ahh, the renowned Professor Sage of—Iselia, isn't it?" His smile remained, and he held out his hand toward her. It was a rigid movement, though, with the slightest hesitation. And the hand he offered was his right. She would have to take it with _her _right hand. She dipped her head instead.

"Captain," she greeted coolly.

Meyers blinked at her and retracted his hand, and Regal evidently decided to intervene gracefully. "The finest scholar in Sylvarant or Tethe'alla. Were I a gambling man, I would bet upon it. Is everything in order?"

Raine kept her mouth shut and her expression schooled. She could have sworn the man's eyes lingered over her for just a few brief seconds, and her hand twitched at her side, but he turned his attention quickly toward his own employer. "All but the guests of honor, m'lord." His smile returned, and he swept an arm up along the ramp. "Ready when you are."

Her colleague quirked the slightest of smiles in return and nodded his thanks. He looked over and down in a glance her way, the silent question apparent in his face. She met it with an arched brow and one more inclination of her head. And with that, and his hand returning to idle right at her back, he guided their steps up the plank that seemed to creak and groan threateningly with every footfall. At first, she made the mistake of looking down with the intention to watch her step and tread carefully—that resulted only in a full view of the waters only yards beneath her feet, and a nauseating lurch of her stomach in the threat of making her lunch forfeit. After that her eyes remained either upward or straight ahead; she might have closed them, but that only made her fear a misstep and loss of footing entirely. Ships.

There was a span of just a few seconds where her heart seemed to pause its rhythm and hang in suspense at the top of the ramp. Regal stepped easily over the narrowest gap and down onto the deck that _logically _was as solid as the streets to which she clung. When he had his balance, he turned and offered his hand—his left hand—and hovered his right near her waist as though to steady her as she followed him. She had taken his offer rather automatically, and this time, as she stepped over that horrid gap, she did close her eyes until she was securely on the polished wood of the vessel. In fact, she kept them closed until well after she heard the clunk of the ship's captain as he joined them. Only when she heard his voice startlingly close by did she jump and look his way.

Meyers had paused briefly beside her, leaning ever so slightly in toward her ear. "Don't fret, ma'am," he advised cheerfully, even as she eyed him in practiced wariness, "She's reliable as they come, the trophy of Tethe'alla." With another tip of his hat, the man stepped around them and raised one hand straight into the air: evidently a well-known signal among his crew, for abruptly men seemed to burst into life and motion, and the shouts and calls began in a flurry. Above them all rose Meyers' own voice with a bright, echoing command of, "Let's get outta here, gents!"

Raine straightened very slowly, though she kept her eyes level at the scenery of the city they were about to leave, rather than the ocean that was going to—ideally—carry them on their way. Regal had yet to move, as she could tell from his shadow, and for the moment she stood rather rigid, as though glued to the boards. As though expecting…what? Oh, she was starting to feel sick again. It didn't help when the boarding ramp was hoisted up and one of the men inadvertently bumped into her, sending a shock of panicked adrenaline through her already edgy nerves. He offered a gruff but sincere apology, of course, but it barely even registered on any significant plane of consciousness.

She recoiled like a cat readying to pounce, despite her own dignity. A sympathetic hand touched her arm, and when the woman snapped her head around to look at the source, Regal met her look knowingly. With the slightest bit of pressure against her arm, he directed her attention to the descending stairs leading below-deck. "We should move below; we'll be in the way here." He released her as unassumingly as his initial touch and linked his hands behind his back. It was clear he was waiting for her to start moving.

And move she did, after she had forced the lead feeling in her feet to subside even a little. She nodded an absent agreement and, setting her eyes squarely on those stairs, she made for them. He fell into step at her side, and the more astute part of her noted that he had placed himself between her and a view of the water. This would have come in handy, had she any inclination of taking her gaze from their destination; but she did not, and as quickly as she could while still retaining some dignity, she vanished below deck with an attentive and respectfully silent man at her heels.

Raine paused at the foot of the stairs, glancing about the hallway and all of the doors lining it. It never ceased to amaze her that people should build upon the water veritable _houses_. She supposed she ought to be grateful for it at times like these, when all she really wanted was a place to hide, but it still seemed a ridiculous concept. Of course, there were those people lacking in sanity who actually would make a home on such a craft and love every minute of it.

Hah.

"Here." Regal slipped past her. "There is a lounge at the end of the hall. It is reserved for passengers; the men have their own quarters. You won't be disturbed."

He was catering to her tastes—what he knew of them. She followed him without a word, able to at least partially forget about the fact that not far beneath her feet was an unforgiving expanse of seawater, now that they were in an enclosed area and she could no longer smell the salt. Only when he motioned her around a corner and into a small, comfortable parlor did she offer a quiet and reflexive, "Thank you."

"Of course."

She moved forward slowly as she took in the room. It was certainly meant, as her benefactor had said, for guests and passengers. This was no mere cargo ship. It had appeared, from the attention she had actually paid to the death trap she was riding, that there was plenty of storage space, but this ship and its crew were no strangers to entertaining. The lounge was decorated in a traditional Tethe'allan style, with plush seating, a table of carved wood atop an antique rug, and even classical paintings situated around the room. There was a window, if the drawn curtains at one side of the room were any indication. They _were _drawn, though, and unlikely by accident. But she made no mention of it, opting instead to drift toward one of the royal blue sofas and seat herself, daintily and rigidly, right on the edge of one cushion.

Regal turned and crossed to a handsome wooden cabinet settled against the far wall. From there he took out two clear wineglasses and, cradling them delicately with one hand as the other picked out a crystalline flask of red liquid. She hadn't paid much mind to his movements, until he came and offered one of the glasses to her. "Here."

Raine took it automatically, blinking herself out of her own tension. Before she knew what was happening, her companion had tipped the flask and filled her glass half-way with a bittersweet-smelling nectar. Her eyes went from her own reflection in the drink up to him. "…Wine?" She knew the scent well enough, though she didn't exactly have a habit of indulging.

"Altamira's finest. Captain Meyers makes a point of keeping a well-aged store of it aboard—a fact more than one passenger has certainly appreciated." A small, courteous smile played upon his lips. Regal poured a little of the delicacy into his own glass and set the flask securely on the table before permitting himself to sit, not on her sofa, but on a chair next to it. "It is quite a treat; I hope you like it."

She looked back down and sniffed at it tentatively. She had always been wary of alcohol—not that she was personally against a moderation of it, or that her palate objected, but rather that in the company of another person the idea of losing any control over herself did not appeal in the slightest. But Raine brought her other hand to cup the glass gingerly at her lap. "Thank you," she repeated evenly.

Regal took a modest sip and leaned back, looking very much at ease. She was jealous of his composure, which was much more genuine than her own façade, regardless of how smooth and flawless it might have appeared. Or perhaps he was simply acting this way for her benefit. That seemed to be his style of late. The thought, for some reason, set her further at edge. So, she turned her head away pointedly, straight-backed and collected, and raised the glass to her lips.

For a moment or two, the only sounds came from above, where men ran here and there in preparation. The silence hung about them, and in the idle moments she curled her right hand back into a fist that rested on her thigh, leaving her left alone to support her drink. Her gaze appeared quite fixed to a lavish painting across from her—indeed, her intrigue was legitimately raised after the initial construction of the mask, and she found her mind losing itself in the stylistic lines of color and shape.

The duke had thus far not intruded upon her cherished solitude, but after he had followed her gaze and studied the object of her attention briefly, he lowered his glass and took a more thoughtfully appreciative gaze to it. "…That was always one of my favorite pieces," he remarked at last.

Raine glanced at him fleetingly. "It's lovely. My guess would be…the feudal era, perhaps slightly later."

His brow arched. "Indeed, it was painted by a man who had recently found his escape from serfdom, just before the revolution." A chuckle escaped him as he shook his head. "I suppose I should not be surprised," he added graciously. He raised his glass ever so slightly toward her. "I knew you were brilliant. Even the history of our art and culture fall under your expertise, it seems."

"I make it a point to learn about everything I encounter."

"That is quite an endeavor." It was another polite dance; light, shallow conversation and proper manners practiced between two very proper and closed people. But his words struck something in her. Rather, the words he did not voice.

She kept her eyes upon the painting, though they ceased examination and became hard, her mouth pursing subtly. Quite an endeavor, he said. _It's a good thing you're half-elven, then._ The thought rose bitterly, as though what little wine she had swallowed wanted to push back up itself. It was a cynical, suspicious sort of sentiment; and maybe it should have surprised her—either that she should suspect Regal of such a careless idea, or that he _had _the idea at all, if he did. But in neither case was it actually a surprise. Her right arm itched, and she held her tongue as her hand closed more tightly around the glass.

From above, there was a final wave of shouts—cheers. They distracted her for a moment, so that she looked upward and strained her ears for a brief few seconds to figure out what was so exciting. Unfortunately, she received her answer, and it was not an answer she had ever wanted. Its timing, if nothing else, was a horrible stroke of fate.

Regal seemed not to mind the voices from above-deck. He leaned forward to set his glass, now mostly empty, on the surface of the table. Just as he was sitting back, however, the ship lurched into motion, finally getting underway. But as it lurched, so did the jumpy woman adjacent to him. Raine gave a mighty start, her little yelp mercifully smothered by the other sounds around them. Her entire body jerked, and Regal, no doubt out of reflex and startled instinct shot his hand out to steady her. His hand collided with her forearm, and between this jar and her own movement, somehow, somehow…her glass slipped.

Suddenly, a very stunned nobleman found himself sitting next to a rigid, frozen woman, blinking at her now-empty wineglass, and discovering the unpleasant feeling of wetness seeping into his trousers.

* * *

><p>...xD Oh Raine. You just dumped wine in Regal's lap. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NEXT?<p>

Raine: With any luck, murder you in your sleep.

Dang, woman. You are grumpy. Martel forbid anyone ever keep you out on a date past your bedtime. You'll never find love.

Raine: Given your track record with these misguided "stories" of yours, I highly...highly doubt that.

...Touché.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay. It took forever to actually finish this chapter, and my strong suit doesn't lie entirely in moments of crisis and action - particularly, you know, when I've never experienced it - but I'm happy with how it turned out.

Raine: That makes one of us.

Yeah, but you're never happy with how anything turns out when I write. You're never happy about anything.

Raine: I would be happy to see you give up this folly.

...Sucks for you, chica. 'Cause that ain't never gonna happen! xD

* * *

><p>Regal looked downward, bemused and quite at a loss for any sort of reaction. Occasionally he blinked; once or twice his mouth would open only to close again just an instant later. His first gut instinct was a muddled mix of several responses. He might have laughed at the sheer absurdity, the coincidental misfortune and the fact that it was <em>Raine<em>; he might have apologized for jarring her arm, or out of sympathy for her obvious shock at the ship's sudden movement. He honestly wasn't sure. The only thing he did know was that his lap was very wet, somewhat cold, and there was quite the unfortunate dark stain that would likely never come out of his pants. He was glad he had not been wearing one of his more formal suits, somewhere in the back of his stalled mind.

Raine was the one who found her wits first, it seemed. She had clasped her free hand to her mouth, wide-eyed and staring. Now that hand slid up to splay over her face in a gesture of exasperation and, perhaps, embarrassment. Under her breath he heard a hiss of, "_Honestly._" That was, ultimately, the deciding factor in his own reaction.

A quiet, subtle chuckle rose in his chest, though he did his best to make it inconspicuous for her sake. He rubbed his jaw and pushed slowly from his chair. "…If you didn't like it, you could simply have told me so," he remarked in an attempt at light humor. "Though I am regrettably not directly responsible for the production of this particular vintage."

She sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Regal," she told him wearily. Her voice was flat and less than chipper; but he held up a dismissive hand when she finally looked up at him.

"It was my own fault. Forgive me, Raine, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't." Raine leaned forward further to set her own glass on the table next to his. Her right hand rested on the cushion beside her thigh, palm down; her left hand returned to her lap as she straightened back up. He watched her shoulders rise slowly, denoting a deep breath, and her eyes closed for a few seconds. Her movements held just the slightest notes of tension. He wished he could do more to set her at ease—though undoubtedly the incident just a few moments prior did not help her already addled state of mind. The poor woman.

"Are you alright?" he ventured, meaning it to be entirely innocent and unassuming. Scarcely had he finished his question, though, before her clipped reply asserted itself.

"Yes."

She spoke it so sharply, so coldly and almost mechanically, that he paused automatically. In the brief silence that followed, he noticed beneath his feet the gentle, faint-but-present sway of their ship upon the ocean. The wood creaked all but inaudibly, and if one listened very, very closely the waves could be heard lapping against the sides of the vessel. They were sensations he was well accustomed to, sensations that mostly became white background noise to him anymore. He enjoyed sailing, and the rocking of the boat and the surrounding water tended to serve either to exhilarate him, when he stood on deck and leaned against the railing; or as a sort of lullaby, soothing his nerves and casting such a peace over his world that it seemed as though everything, everything would inevitably work out.

But it was not so for the anxious woman before him. She would be sensitive to every shudder, every vibration, every little sound; and it would all add up to a constant reminder that she was far out of her comfort zone. He felt a pang of guilt, though rationally there was nothing _he _had done. But Raine was a picture of stubborn strength, and he should have known better, he supposed, than to give the appearance of coddling her. The last thing he wanted was to further pressure her. Besides it being against his very nature, it would only agitate her further.

…He really ought to change his clothes, he realized with another glance down. It might not hurt to let her alone for a bit, anyway; he had a feeling his presence in this moment contributed at least partially to the tension he could see sitting across her shoulders. He would give her some privacy and in the meantime enjoy a little time above. After he put on fresh pants, of course.

"Well… If you will excuse me, I should change." He offered his business smile, diplomatic and polite.

"…Of course. I apologize again."

"Think nothing of it. It is not the first time I have had something dumped in my lap, and given both my occupation and my place in the royal court, it probably won't be the last." Her expression flickered for just the briefest of instants as she recognized his wordplay, and that satisfied him for the moment. He dipped his head and slipped from the room, leaving her to her own thoughts—whatever they may be.

Regal walked up the hall and toward the hold where he knew their luggage would have been taken. As his eyes scanned the various doors in passive interest, another set of footsteps caught his attention as it descended the stairs from the deck. He paused and glanced over his shoulder casually. But when the man came into view, he turned around completely with an amiable greeting. "Captain."

"Ah! Lord Bryant. Where is your lady fr—" Meyers stopped talking and paused with one hand on the visor of his cap. "Ah… With all due respect, My Lord… Are you aware…" The sailor looked as though he was struggling for a graceful way to say whatever he was trying to say. And after following his gaze, Regal had a pretty good idea what _was _on his friend's mind.

He lifted a hand and rubbed his face, a little flustered now himself, but he chuckled faintly. "A glass of wine spilled. I was just about to change."

"Ah. _Wine_." His brow arched a little. "I do hope you put Altamira's best foot forward. Though if she dumped it on you…"

Regal shook his head. "I jarred her arm inadvertently."

The other man's eyes only went a little wider. "I _see_…"

It took a split second before he realized what the implications of that tone were. When he did, he touched his fingertips to his forehead. "It was an accident. The ship began to move abruptly, she was startled, she—" It was no use. All he could do was sigh and join in the captain's chuckling as he lowered his head.

"Well. The hold is right through there." Meyers jerked his head toward a door right next to the steps. "All of yours and Ms. Sage's belongings should be there. Is she alright?"

The duke paused to weigh his response. In the end, he decided to spare his old friend and gave a simple, yet appreciative, "I believe she'll be fine. I just hope we don't run into any turbulence. I would hate to spill any more of your wonderful wine."

"That would be quite a tragedy." Meyers half-grinned. "Need something to set the mood for our guests, after all. _Other _guests, of course."

"Of course."

"A dashing nobleman such as yourself hardly need rely on alcohol to seduce the heart of a fair maiden, after all."

There was just no end to this man's ribbing. Regal was suddenly extremely hopeful that Raine could hear none of this conversation. He rather wished _he _couldn't hear the conversation. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. When had he become such an easy target for these jokes? It was almost enough to drive a man to marry, just to spare himself the grief.

Almost.

"I'm afraid you have rather the wrong impression, Captain. Raine and I are simply friends. My interests in her are strictly platonic. And I would advise you, as your friend as well, never to make any such suggestion around her. I have seen her temper, and it is nothing to trifle with."

"Oh-ho, a firecracker."

"In a word, yes. She has her charms, though." It was an innocent statement, a simple fact. She was charming in her own way.

Meyers released a hearty laugh. "I'm sure she does. She's a lovely woman. And, she doesn't have a meddling mother who wants to milk your status for all its worth." He winked. "Veritable jewel, that one." His thumbs hooked into his belt and he glanced about. "You're not planning to spend the whole trip down here in the shadows, are you? It's a perfect day. Looks like it could rain later this evening. You'd hate to waste a nice afternoon."

"Indeed I would. I was actually going to head above deck after I changed."

The sailor beamed in satisfaction and apparent approval. "Good. I suppose I shall see you up there soon, then. Sir." He tipped his hat ever so slightly with his fingertips and disappeared down the hall and into a room. Regal did watch him for just a moment, despite himself, lest he head for the lounge and intrude upon the silence and solitude he had left for Raine, but at last the Duke turned back around to slip through the door to the hold.

A good twenty minutes later, he was straightening his clothing before a mirror in what served, effectively, as a washroom. He had intended to change only his trousers, but after pawing through some of his clothing on the way to a new pair, he had ultimately opted for an entirely new ensemble more befitting a man of leisure than the most important figure in Altamira. His shirt, colored a clean and pure white, hung a little loosely about his figure, giving him freedom in movement. The bottom hem was tucked away into the waist of his pants, which was held snug by a plain, brown belt. He was almost amused, as he examined the two buttons left casually undone at his collarbone; he might even be able to pass as a pirate from the old legends. At least he had the taste to avoid the rather dramatic style of boot they were reputed to wear. No, his neat shoes of brown leather would work nicely…and spare him from looking the complete fool.

He passed back out into the hallway and quietly shut the door behind him. He did send one fleeting glance down toward the lounge, but his decision to afford her some privacy and solitude ultimately stood, and the man made his way up the stairs and onto the deck where, it seemed, the world was actually alive and moving forward.

Regal squinted in the afternoon sunlight, but as he drew a deep breath and relished the salty sea-breeze, he felt that familiar ease trickle from his shoulders to his toes. It was a beautiful day, and for just a time, he could forget about being a nobleman, about being a company president. A slight, absent smile played at one corner of his mouth. He lifted his hand in a brief acknowledgement as Meyers shot him a nod and a wave, and with his hands loosely linked behind his back he ambled toward the siding of the deck. The city they had left was still just visible, and he leaned against the wood to watch it shrinking. Above him, the sails billowed energetically; the wind favored them today. Luckily for his unfortunate companion below, they should make excellent time to the other continent.

He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed a sigh. He could pass hours up here, warmed by the sun and feeling the freedom of open waters—and so he did. He lost himself in the beauty of the scene, in the hum of voices and rustling of ropes, in the occasional mist sent up by the collision of a particularly obstinate wave against the wide of the ship. One hour, two, three. Four hours of blissful, peaceful quiet enjoyment. That it couldn't last was inevitable.

A shadow passed over his hands, draped lazily over the water, and darkened the edges of his vision. It was enough to rouse him up out of his stupor and bring his roaming mind back to the present moment. His immediate expectation was to find a cloud simply passing overhead, but when he tilted his head back he was startled to find that it was not _one _stray cloud. The entire sky was greying. Afternoon was turning to evening, and rather quickly. They were, indeed, in for some rain. That would make for a fair bit of turbulence—lovely for his miserable guest downstairs.

Regal blinked and lifted one arm reflexively against a sudden burst of bitingly cold wind. In the few seconds of his musings, just the time it took for him to straighten and turn around to peer over the rest of the deck, the dingy grey overhead had darkened considerably. The sails strained against their ropes, the wood creaked, and there was an eerily distinct lack of human voices. Everyone, it seemed, was staring ahead. Staring at the blackness toward which they were sailing. …This wasn't rain. All contentment drained from his face as the seaman buried within him felt realization settle into place. A sailor's nightmare. The very vision of the ocean's utter unpredictability. They were heading into a nasty storm.

"Alright, gents, you're not watching the bunnies back home; this isn't a show. Shut those mouths and get the lead out!"

Meyers' voice boomed over the wind now picking up and seemed to strike a measure of awareness and reality back into the hearts of every stunned man on deck, Regal included. The ship came alive with loud, clunking footsteps and shouts. Men ran back and forth across the deck, instinct and training running together to form a palpable urgency. He was not above it, himself.

Just as the clouds burst, Regal slipped himself between two men running to secure the sails and took the steps two at a time to join the captain up near the wheel. Meyers seemed taken aback by his presence for a moment. When he found his wits again, he pitched his voice over the pounding rain and other calls. "I called it," he shouted. "This wasn't quite what I had in mind, but you know the sea—she likes to surprise you!"

"Indeed she does. What do you need?" Regal intended to make himself useful. Captain Meyers and his men were a machine, a wonderful team; but surely there was something he could do.

"Come with me," Meyers invited after a brief hesitation. In times of crisis, station and ceremony tended to fly out the window. Or off the deck, as the case was with a few stray cloths which _had _been lying around. He motioned his employer forward, and together the two descended to the main deck under the weight of rain that was only falling harder. Everyone and everything in the open was soaked through, and a careless step could send any surefooted sailor sliding on his backside. Even lightning seemed now inclined to join the festivities, if that loud rumbling was any indication. They didn't have much time.

Regal, dripping wet and straining in the sudden and stifling darkness to make out what he was doing, clung to a slick rope alongside two others, all three putting every ounce of their weight into pulling back. The wind was unforgiving and stung at wet, exposed skin. The fabric of his shirt whipped around his body despite the weight of being drenched, a testament to the force of the storm. Lightning, too, was getting closer. Much closer. Streaks would dart across the sky and without so much as an instant of hesitation, the corresponding crack would make every heart skip one beat.

He tossed his head savagely, the braid formerly securing his hair now effectively ravaged and shredded by the wind so that it stuck in thick, heavy clumps to his face. The rope in his cramping hands was beginning to slip, and he renewed his hold stubbornly. But it was the least of his problems. Of all their problems.

Regal felt every muscle tense as he went half-way into a crouch at the loudest, most harrowing _snap _yet. Everyone had recoiled, equally jarred; but as he looked over his shoulder his eyes widened. The mast. It was hit. The wood was cracked and leaning, creaking horribly, groaning. Despite the relentless rain, he could see sparks. The mast was coming down, and as the fire truly sprang into life, he released the rope without a thought to lunge toward the column which was already splintering. Half of its length was enveloped in raging flames. It was falling. And there was a young man in its path.

The duke lashed out and pushed the boy to the hard deck with him, just as the mast finally collapsed entirely. It collided with the body of the ship just behind them and snapped in half with a terrible, ear-splitting crackle of crumbling wood. Smoke, splinters, and the pouring rain made it nearly impossible to see, though he had flung his arms over his head for protection anyway. When he and the stunned lad he had just spared from being crushed ventured to lift their faces and he looked over his shoulder, he could only stare at first. His shoulders rose and fell in deep, labored panting. The ship… The ship was on fire. It was like a battlefield, the men strewn about—some hurt, some simply in shock—the jagged beams and planks. Waves rose well above what remained of the siding and washed over them. Half of the mast had vanished into the angry sea already, but it had left in its wake one final gift:

There, running from the very underbelly of the chip all the way up to the main deck, there was a dark, spidery crack.

* * *

><p>Shall we sound the OHCRAP alert now?<p>

Raine: ...Martel.

EVEN MARTEL CAN'T SAVE YOU NOW!

Raine: Martel forgive me.

...for what?

Raine: For when I -murder- you.

Crankypants. Also, PROPS TO MANNA. Again :DDD


	8. Chapter 8

Hmmm...

Genis: ...Daaaaaang... -walks in with manuscript- Now I know why she hates you so much! o.o

!...!... GHRUOWBTUPWUTPNUEJTWPIGBHWYP GENIS!

Genis: Yup. Man, you are one crazy human girl. Are you, like...on medication or something?

GENIS!

Genis: Er... I have a feeling...I should run away now...

-tacklecling-

* * *

><p>There was an instant, just a few seconds, but it felt like time had frozen. He stared at the side of the ship, the rail that was crumbling in on itself. Everyone was frozen in shock and horror again. The crack made by the fallen mast was creeping even further up, stretching toward his very feet. Around them the wind howled, and there was not a man on this deck who did not know what was coming next.<p>

The vessel lurched beneath him with another loud _bang _as more beams snapped. He flinched and ducked again to keep his balance, and the present moment came rushing back at him like a punch across the jaw. It almost knocked the breath right out of him. A dull sort of panic rose and twisted in his gut, but he forced it down. He could not afford to give into it. Panic got people killed—

Raine.

At once, his veins flooded with adrenaline. Did she even know what was happening? She had to be absolutely terrified. He cursed, though it was taken away by the storm, and all but flew for the steps leading below with no thought but to find her. Twice he nearly slipped and fell; the second time he caught himself on jagged wood. Another curse, slightly more colorful, issued from his mouth as the splintering planks and debris tore across his forearm and added blood to the water pooling at his feet. But that was not the reason behind his expletive. No, the reason he grit his teeth and found his stomach roiling was the wall currently glaring back at him.

The stairs and the archway above them, even portions of the hallway below and areas of the main deck around them had all caved in. It was just a tangle of debris and planks; he could see nothing beyond it. Even as he shuffled about a little, he found no access, no breach. No available way down to her, where only Martel knew what was happening. He would have to break through it. It would take time, but he would have to force his way through. The question was, did he have that time? The belly of the ship was undoubtedly already filling with water; half of the ship was smoking; and every so often another support could be heard snapping about the roar of the wind and the thunder that still mocked these mortals who dared claim dominion of the ocean.

Regal whipped his head around to look over his shoulder just as Meyers' voice reached him again. "Abandon ship!" he was bellowing. "Get your sorry hides off this barge! Let's go! Go, go, go! I'm not writing any letters of consolation today! _Get moving_! Lord Bryant—that means you, too, sir—"

The duke had crossed the distance between them, dodging and occasionally bumping into the other men who were scrambling about. He reached out now, shaking his head even as the captain spoke, and grasped the uniformed shoulder. "Raine," he breathed. "She's trapped. Captain. Go. Take your men. Get as far away as you can. The ship is going under."

Meyers lowered his arm slightly. "Trapped…below?"

He nodded. "Yes. She never would have come above deck; the stairway has collapsed. The cabin is filling with water as we speak; I need to get her out."

"Alright." Meyers twisted around to watch his men for a few seconds as they released the lifeboats. "Alright, we'll—"

"No." Regal inclined his head toward the crew vaguely. "There's no time. I want you to go, get your men to safety. Do whatever you have to, to weather the storm. Get back to land."

"My Lord, I am responsible for your safety _and _that of Ms. Sage," Meyers called above the storm. In his eyes, though, as another bolt of lightning and the nearby flames made them visible, there was a concern that went beyond simple duty.

He squeezed the older man's shoulder. "We'll be alright. There _will _be no letters of consolation after this evening. We will catch up with you. _Go_."

Another moment passed between them in silent eye contact. Finally, Meyers reached out and grasped Regal's shoulder in reply, just very briefly. "George'll have my head if anything happens to you. Alright, boys!" He released his employer and turned around to trot away into the rain and smoke.

Regal felt a little better. Jonathan Meyers was the best captain in Altamira's complement; perhaps even in the country. He would take good care of his people. And now, he could focus entirely…on the woman currently facing one of her greatest fears under his feet.

He tuned out the groaning, the yelling, the wind, the thunder, the angry waves only stressing the craft further, and returned to the barrier. He bent near it, his eyes poring over every shard and shamble for _any _weak point at all. A monstrous wave threw itself over the site and doused him, but he stood stubbornly rooted to his spot. Finally, after shaking the stinging salt water from his face, he pressed his hands flat to a particular plank and pushed, experimentally. No budge.

The man bowed his head and closed his eyes. There was no time for delicacy, for neatness. He didn't even notice the pain in his arm. Nor, as he began at last and with a subconscious snarl to beat and tear at the blockage, did he take any stock of the splinters and scratches and bruises punishing him. He was soaked to the bone, but even that didn't register. All he wanted was to break…

…down…

…this…

….wall!

Regal recoiled instinctively as part of the barrier shattered underneath his foot, sending dust and little flecks of wood into the air; but he wasted no time. "Raine!" he snapped. Though he didn't really expect an answer. Even if she was physically fine, even if she could hear him above everything else. And yet, for some inexplicable reason, as a beam cracked overhead and dropped a tiny ember just about on his head, he repeated himself. "Raine!"

The hallway was in tatters. The floor beneath him was wet—not just wet, but covered in at least an inch of water. An inch which was rapidly becoming more. As they had predicted, the crack wasn't just on the surface; there was a leak. A serious leak. He splashed through the shallow swamp on his way down the half-collapsed hallway toward the lounge, where last he had seen her.

Where he had left her, a nagging little voice scratched out at the back of his mind. He shook it away angrily. Coming to another collapsed doorway at the end of the stretch, he kicked this time effortlessly through the comparatively flimsy boards and beams. The third call of her name died on his lips, though, as a flash of lightning from outside the curtained window illuminated the scene before him.

At least one chair was on its side; the two glasses were shattered on the flooded floor. The cabinet was open, and the water surrounding it was stained with wine from broken bottles. And there, pressed into the far corner of the room, stood a trembling, wide-eyed, rigid woman. The cuffs of her pants were wet, her shoes entirely submerged by this time. Her palms were pressed flat against the walls on either side. Between flashes, her shoulders could be seen to rise and fall in quick, panicked breaths. She had a fair complexion under normal circumstances, but in this lighting, trying desperately as she was to vanish into the wall behind her, she was ghostly pale. Every time the ship gave a shudder or lurch, she flinched; but she didn't so much as blink when he burst into the room. Her eyes were on the floor, on the seawater swirling about her feet. At once, he felt it tug at him; she was absolutely traumatized. But it would get no better standing there.

Regal ducked around the fallen chair, catching himself against the wall briefly as their sinking vessel rocked and began to lean to one side. The water rose quickly from his ankles to his shins with a fresh wave from the unseen leak. "Raine." He reached out hesitantly at first. She didn't move, didn't twitch. He was close enough to hear her frantic, high-pitched gasps that served as breathing. She was all but hyperventilating. _No time for delicacy, _he reminded himself. Both hands came out, and he took between them her trembling head, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Raine," he repeated, stronger.

In another flash, her saw her pale lips move slowly, vaguely. She whimpered something, but he didn't catch it.

"Listen to me." The boat creaked under them. It rocked and gave another angry quake. The ceiling above the lounge split and showered down flaming bits of the deck overhead. Regal pressed himself close to her, one hand around the back of her head to clutch it to his chest. His other arm wrapped around behind her shoulders, and he pushed them both further into the corner, using his own body as a shield. With a hole in the deck, now the rain was pouring in, too, only adding to the water level. It could have been his imagination, but in that instant when her face was buried against him, his fingers threaded through her hair, her body shaking in his grasp, he could have sworn he heard a yelp. She was so small, so fragile in his hold. The woman fancied as the epitome of independence and strength, reduced in this horrific moment to…a quivering child. For the briefest fraction of an instant, he touched his chin down to the crown of her head as though in desperate need to console her. But the water was midway up her calves now. They had to move.

Regal slid his arm down to rest his hand at her waist. The other hand stayed against the back of her head even as he pulled back. "Raine. We have to go. The ship is sinking, and we _will _be alright, but we have to go. Please. Trust me." The water was creeping up to her knees. He knew she could feel it, judging by the ill expression and the way her breaths became slightly more sporadic, shallow as they already were. It was cold, too. Luckily, the rising water had doused the fire which had fallen. That wouldn't do them much good, however, when they were trapped in submerged wreckage. "You have to trust me!" He shook her gently.

"I…" She tried to speak, but any true words she may have uttered were lost to the catastrophe. He looked around and over his shoulder. The hand at her waist slid around so that his arm was draped across her back. Carrying her and navigating back up to the surface would be difficult; their best chances rested in her walking. But it was obvious that she was going to need his help.

"Come on. I'm here. Nothing is going to happen to you." He spoke these words automatically as he pulled her along, their steps slogging and splashing. He had her pressed into his side—or perhaps it was her own volition. Her right hand was clinging to the back of his shirt, proof of how absent her stability and consciousness were. It didn't matter, though; nothing mattered. Nothing but climbing back through the hall, now at an awkward slope upwards, and up to the deck. Raine was stiff and moved robotically, even reluctantly beside him. If not for his arm, she probably would not be moving at all. This was not a mild aversion. This woman was a virtually clinical case.

The slant became steeper as they went, though the water never seemed to recede at all. He could tell from the snapping behind him that parts of their vessel were finally breaking off entirely. But they reached the hole he had made initially without incident, and he pulled her up to it. At the top he did pick her up, and he drew a deep breath as they found themselves in open air. The wind beat at them, the rain hammered them and soaked the rest of her body thoroughly, the smoke stung at his eyes and made him cough—but they were no longer trapped. In some small way, he could feel some relief. In confinement was the last place anyone wanted to be when it came to the ocean.

Raine was curled up with her face hidden, again, in his chest. He wasn't sure what was going on inside that mind of hers, but his own put that thought on the backburner for now as he searched with his eyes for some means of escape. The longboats were gone. He hoped that meant that Meyers and his men had taken them and fled, rather than their being casualties of the evening. But nonetheless, it left them with quite a predicament.

He turned his head to cough again, renewed his hold on his catatonic burden, and picked his careful but swift way toward the upper edge of the deck—the corner furthest from the water while still being spared from the fire. There, he scanned the water instead. Quick thinking, quick thinking…

The lightning illuminated for him pieces of driftwood; pieces of what had been a magnificent ship. But they floated on the surface. They _floated_. Despite the violent waves, and the threatening storm, they floated. That was it.

Regal set the half-elf on her feet, though she clung with her fingernails like a petrified cat to his sleeves. He had a feeling she couldn't even have articulated who he was at that point. But her eyes were closed, her head was bowed, and she sounded now like she could hardly breathe at all. She could feel every shudder beneath their feet, he knew. All of her attention was on the impending doom and her own terror; all of his was on making sure they _lived_. And so, he stepped up onto a piece of the siding which was blessedly intact, still facing her. He had to bend to accommodate her grip on him. "Raine. Raine, you have to step up. Step forward." He was almost ready to plead.

She dared to open her eyes—but when she looked to the side and saw the ocean spread out before her, and him standing on his precarious perch, some manner of realization must have hit her, for now she jerked backwards. Had he not reached out and caught her wrist, she would have gone tumbling back.

"No… No, no, no." He could hear her clearly enough. Her voice rose in horror, and she strained against his grasp. "Are you insane?!"

"Raine, _please_. I promise you, it will be fine. We have to go—"

"_No_!"

Regal dragged her forward, his physical strength far outmatching her own. Force was not his preferred persuasion, but he wasn't stupid. His free hand took her chin and held it quite firmly in place. "If we stay here, we will die." His voice was hard and low, as gravel and offering no room for questioning. "We are _going _to jump, and you are _going _to be fine. Stop this foolishness!"

This time, when he pulled, he pulled her up onto the siding with him. His hand closed around hers now, and he closed his eyes for a brief second—just enough time to pray to Martel that this was not the second greatest mistake he had ever made in his life—before he leapt with the shriek of a woman following close behind him.

The water accepted them eagerly, and there was a moment in which he could hear almost nothing but the shifting of air bubbles in the ocean. His hand still firmly grasped hers, and it was a numb source of assurance as his head broke the surface and he tried to catch a decent breath. But Regal found himself quite abruptly yanked back under by that very hand itself; Raine was panicking again. She couldn't swim, and in trying to blindly fight her way up to the air, she was thrashing. It had caught him by surprise, and he swallowed a fair bit of foul seawater.

It was dark, and he couldn't see, but he squeezed her hand and dragged it straight to his chest. He could feel her erratic movements, and she inadvertently kicked him—but he took his opportunity. Very much needing a breath, he roughly forced her one arm around his neck and placed his free one once more at her back. He gave her no leeway, no margin for much movement of any kind; he simply held her as a prisoner against his body and struggled in this way to rise back to the surface.

The splash they made as they broke the water was rivaled only by their mingled fits of coughing and gasping. He lashed out with his hand, groping, and when he felt something hard and solid scrape his fingertips he immediately pounced upon it. Regal dragged his captive with him and fell upon the broad piece of debris. His arm was cramping in the awkward, confining position it had about her, but he didn't dare let go. Thankfully, Raine was clutching at it with one hand, too, still choking and retching with seawater. He let himself, for the first time, drop his head. His forehead touched the wet plank, and his shoulders rose and fell in heaving breaths.

_Whatever it takes to weather the storm_, he had said. _Whatever it takes._

_I'm sorry, Raine._

* * *

><p>Awwwww, Regal. It's okay.<p>

Genis: ...uh... About those meds...

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe hehehe-hey.

Genis: o.O

Why are you here? I mean, not that you're not friggin' ADORABLE AND I LOVE YOU, but for srs. Why are you here?

Genis: Raine called in sick.

...She's just avoiding me, isn't she?

Genis: I'm gonna go with "yes."

/sniffle ): ...Reviews...?


	9. Chapter 9

So hi. Here's a new chapter. Only took me three years to post this slightly shoddy thing. Forgive.

Raine: Just post it and get the idiocy over with.

Thanks, Raine. Always there with a word of encouragement

Raine: ...Just don't.

You're a jerk. Happy pills.

* * *

><p>Was it a blessing that she had lost consciousness sometime during the storm? …Most likely. She wasn't even certain how long she had been clinging to whatever it was she had been clinging to—nor what had actually, in the end, happened. She only knew she had fainted, or something, because at present she was finding herself waking up.<p>

The first sensation to return was that of a dull, numb panic. Some part of her began to register that she was neither wet nor cold, and that she was on her back, but the remnants of whatever terror had gripped her relentlessly before the blackout were stronger and dominated her initial perception. She felt her heart skip and the adrenaline pulse through her veins, and she tried immediately to force her eyes to open. They didn't, though—not right away. Though anxiety took over and choked her breaths, her body was so utterly exhausted that it would not answer the commands of her will.

"Thayen tah vriel… Oma! Thayen tah vriel!"

Somewhere above her, hushed voices began to chatter. Something in the words was familiar, but they all sounded so hazy. Of course, these unknown voices did nothing to put her at ease, but they inspired a different sort of concern. Slowly, slowly, the icy dread began to ebb a little as her senses tuned into the world actually surrounding her.

Something firm but soft was beneath her and the air was warm and dry. The light she could make out through her heavy lids was dim, and it flickered now and then, as though cast by candles. There was some rustling of cloth from somewhere nearby, probably made by the shuffling movements of those she could hear whispering and mumbling. Her body ached—her arms in particular. She did not feel as sticky as she would have expected, and the fabric of her clothing was strangely soft against her skin. All of this together made her want more than ever to open her eyes and understand her situation.

A groan issued from her lips without her authorization. She was able to drag one hand up and drape it briefly over her face, which was a step in the right direction. Raine flexed her fingers slightly, willing function back into her muscles. Finally, _finally_, her eyes fluttered open a little. They were not much more than violet slits, but it was enough; enough to show her the shadows dancing on the wooden walls and ceiling in the erratic light that was, indeed, from several candles situated around the small room. It looked like there was a window on the adjacent wall, but a heavy curtain was drawn over it. She couldn't tell if it was morning or evening.

"Where…?" Her voice sounded so hoarse, it almost made her cringe. She did not retract the question, however. She had yet to actually see any of the speakers, but she knew they were there. Somewhere.

Suddenly, a face was in hers. Raine was startled despite herself, but she blinked up into the other gaze blearily. In the low light, she could just barely make out the color of the eyes staring back at her as purple, probably a smooth lavender hue. It was a woman—rather, a girl—if the delicate, youthful features were any indication. Her hair was long and light and fell around her shoulders. But as the stranger shook it back out of her way, Raine caught the final piece of evidence needed to place both the girl's appearance and the familiarity of the words she had heard: the tip of a long, slender and pointed ear poked out between the strands.

Elves.

Heimdall?

…Impossible.

Her expression must have betrayed her confusion and dismay, for the girl's brow furrowed and she tilted her head slowly and murmured questioningly in elvish. What horrified Raine further…was that she actually understood most of it, now that her mind was in working order again. It had to come back to her, but coming back it was.

"…_You are unwell_?" the lilting voice asked. "_You are hurt_?"

Haltingly, Raine shook her head. Every muscle in her body was tense, and the instinct of fight-or-flight was rising like bile in the back of her throat—but something else occurred to her rather suddenly.

Regal. Where was Regal?

She made to sit up slowly, her joints stiff, but her hard gaze never left these strangers—for as she shifted positions, she could see two other girls hovering nearby. She looked from one to the next until her eyes fell back to the one closest, who currently resembled a very attentive and skittish mother hen. "_You are lucky_," the girl informed her, smiling gently. To Raine, it looked only condescending.

The language, considered exotic and beautiful by so many, was grating on her own ears. She couldn't stand that false, seraphic song. And the concern they seemed to show made her skin crawl. It must have been more than obvious to these people _what _she was, so why should they treat her with any genuine kindness? Her jaw stiff and set, she got straight to the point. She wanted out of this unnerving scene, and soon.

"Where is my companion?" she demanded in crisp, pointed common. She would not humor them in sharing their language. She would not play that game. "The man I was with. Where is he?"

Her supposed caretaker blinked at her, having pulled back a couple of inches in surprise and what looked like confusion. She shared a glance with the other two, neither of whom offered anything more coherent. When the three sets of eyes landed back on the half-elf, every head tilted in eerie unison, and there was silence through the room as everyone just stared. Raine could feel the irritation growing, and she was in no mood to toy around.

"I know you understand me," she growled, her words coming out perhaps a little more harshly than intended, but she did not regret it. She shifted to sit on the side of the bed, or cot, or whatever she had been laying on, and stared down the three girls. "Just tell me where he is."

The stranger in front glanced around again, looking rather distressed. Her smooth, pale brow creased, and she shook her own head gently, very much at a loss. Slowly, slowly, Raine felt her shoulders relax. The anger in her face melted to a frown, and after a long moment, she unclenched the hand she hadn't even realized had formed a fist. "….You can't…understand me," she murmured, more to herself.

…Where _was _she? Everyone in Heimdall knew the human language, as far as she was aware; but Heimdall was the only true elvish settlement she know of, too. Unless this wasn't a town, but merely a few loners. That didn't make much sense, either, though. A dull ache began to creep up into her temple, and she closed her eyes. First things first: Regal.

She opened her eyes and leveled them square and unyielding on the young woman closest to her. She was still not inclined to spend any more time with elves than she absolutely had to…but she _would _have to stoop to using the language if she was to get anywhere with these people. The thought alone left a nasty taste in her mouth, but the pragmatist in her swallowed it and pushed through. "_My_…" She paused, trying to search her memory for the words she wanted. Many, many years had passed since she had let them pass her lips. "_Friend. My friend. Where is he_?"

The violet eyes facing hers brightened with relief and glee, or perhaps simple recognition. Raine felt a muscle in her face twitch in distaste; no doubt they were just glad they wouldn't have to deal with some backwards half-breed who couldn't even have the decency to speak their tongue. Nonetheless, a wide smile split the girl's pretty face. "_Handsome man_? _Different, very lovely._"

Raine lifted one eyebrow. She was not at all sure she hadn't heard wrong, but she shook her head in exasperation and frustration. "_Yes._ _Where_?"

There was a startling flurry of movement as the trio sprang into action. She tensed again, feeling and probably looking like a cat ready to bolt. All of their energy and enthusiasm only served to make her more nervous, her patience already thin and bearing no leeway for further testing. Eventually, two of them shuffled toward the door while the third, the apparent spokesperson, came forward bearing a bundle of some sort in her arms. All of them watched her expectantly as this bundle was offered, and Raine dropped her gaze to it in nothing less than suspicion. There was little she felt capable of doing, in fact, without suspicion.

"_Dress._" The girl paused, then giggled in a manner she found most unpleasant. "_Unless you want your friend to see this._"

A frown creased her brow, and these words prompted her for the first time to actually look down at herself. The soft fabric she had felt against her skin, she now saw to be, very obviously, underclothing. There was no trace of the clothes with which she remembered boarding the ship, and in their place was a light, almost silken pair of modest undergarments. Color crept unbidden into her cheeks and lingered for a moment before she could effectively banish it; this new….outfit, if such it could be called, and her state of relatively neat grooming, raised questions, concerns, and realties of the time she had spent here unconscious about which she cared very little to ponder. Instead, with a jerk of her head, she looked up to the bundle of cloth again.

"…_My clothing_?" She did not want to dress like these people, and even the barest glance made clear the elvish flair in whatever articles they offered.

Again, the girl looked puzzled as she glanced down over her burden. She turned it this way and that for a moment in a quick inspection and then slowly held it out again. "_Soiled. It was burned. This will fit you; it is comfortable and very lovely._"

Raine felt another spark of anger rise in her already-churning gut. They had _burned _her belongings? "You had no right," she snapped, lapsing out of the sickly-sweet melody of Elvish. The rage ebbed quickly, though, settling into a dull smolder. Logically, her own clothes would very likely have been unfit for wearing, but to _burn _them? To destroy them, as though to banish anything from their perfect society that did not look and feel like their own? Though such a conclusion was harsh and, perhaps, unfounded, she couldn't shake it. But there was nothing else to be done. She had to find Regal, and they had to leave.

She set her jaw and reached out one hand carefully toward the girl who persistently offered the clothes in her arms. Her outburst had sent a startled ripple of confusion, or something similar, through the little gathering—but they seemed pleased beyond all else when she finally closed her fingers around the fabric and tugged it forward. It wasn't until her actions caused the article to unfurl and unfold that it became _her _turn to be startled to see just what it was they wanted her to wear.

"…A dress."

This time her voice bore no hostility, so though her self-proclaimed attendants, or guards, or whatever they would call themselves could not understand her somewhat flat, unimpressed words, they just kept smiling as though they knew they were offering some sort of precious treasure to her. Clearly, they saw nothing wrong with this picture.

After a long moment, she pulled the garment into her lap in resignation; it was her only option. That seemed to be a recurring theme of this day. Raine sighed softly to herself, but she nodded. "_Fine._" Gathering the folds of the skirt, she made to stand and dress with the assumption that the girls would leave her to _some _semblance of privacy so she could wriggle into this infernal dress. Alas, she had no such luck. The two by the door did slip through it and vanish, but she was not to be left alone by this, the most outspoken. Despite the shaking of her head and the protests she tried to make in both languages, her little maiden was bound and determined to play dress-up with this life-sized doll at her disposal.

A doll who, as she was prodded and manipulated and positioned, disliked the experience. Immensely.

At last, it was over. Raine was actually glad there was no mirror readily apparent in the room, so she couldn't see how stupid she looked. The feeling was bad enough. She shifted uncomfortably in the loose sleeves and skirt. It was a relatively simple dress—merciful goddess Martel—probably meant for casual wear, but it was still a dress. And it was still elvish.

"_Come. Fee and Nya will have found your friend by now. He will be most impressed._" The young lady reached out and took her hand, glowing with a bright smile, and before she knew it, she was being pulled out of the dimly candlelit room and into the setting sun.

….Impressed. That was not the word she would have chosen.

* * *

><p>I enjoyed writing from jaded-Raine's point of view.<p>

Raine: You do understand that I am right here and in no way believe you to have any authoritative grasp on my character-

Raine, I'm an English Major. I'm reading enough haughty literature and essays. I don't need you going Professor on me.

Raine: I hate you.

I know. :3


	10. Chapter 10

Hey-o. Two months...not AS bad. xD At least it's got the same year stamp on it this time!

Raine: ...Why do you do this? Just answer me that one question.

...Do what? Why do I take forever to update? Why do I always write at night? Why do I...put these random conversations at the start and end of every chapter? Why do I pirate this beautiful game and obsess over it endlessly?

Raine: It's so difficult to choose just -one-.

Well, I could give you a simple answer...

Raine: I'm going to regret asking, I know it... Alright. Why?

Because I'm JUST. THAT. AWESOME. n.n New chapter time.

* * *

><p>These people…were nothing like he could have predicted. The childlike wonder and curiosity every one of them expressed, the genuine sense of welcome he, perhaps optimistically, couldn't help feeling, were not aspects he was accustomed to finding in elvish settlements. …Then again, he had only ever encountered one elvish settlement before this one. He had never imagined there to <em>be <em>another one in the world. Yet here they were, bright-eyed and nothing but hospitable.

He assumed—they did not speak what he had always taken for granted as the universal language. How ignorant he felt. How very small, insignificant, and…lost.

Regal stood along a stretch of sand that marked part of the island's one expansive, continuous beach. The sanctuary upon which the sea had generously determined to deposit them was a sizable mass of land—but it was still isolated and skirted on all sides by ocean as far as the best eye could discern. There was no telling where they were, or how from any familiar territory; one of his first tasks succeeding his return to consciousness, indeed, had been to search the sky for familiar stars that evening. Unfortunately, while the night had been beautifully clear and crisp, no recognizable shapes had he picked out.

One might, then, propose to ask why he was standing at the water's edge _now_ as the sun submitted to a twilight glow, his eyes cast up and out. In truth, he might not even have a good answer. Perhaps he simply needed something to do. He couldn't exactly retreat into his room with a good book. At least he could find some sort of peace in the quiet lapping of the waves and the humming of some insect native to this island. It was a beautiful place. ...Though it was darkened by the not-insignificant reality that they were trapped.

The man cast a glance over his shoulder toward the gentle, homey glow of the village he could see in the near distance. When he had come to, finding himself in the care of this strange people, he had been rather disoriented and not altogether at ease. The first question from his lips had been about Raine—was she there, was she alright, where was she? And it had taken some…creativity on the parts of both parties, but he had finally been satisfied that she _was _there, and that she was being well cared for. They both were, to be honest; though he was still concerned. For a multitude of reasons.

He linked his hands loosely behind his back in an old, thoughtful habit, and returned his gaze to the dusky, almost magenta horizon. As far as he had been able to tell, the closest the natives had to seafaring technology was a small complement of fishing crafts—glorified rowboats, really. There was little storage capacity, and they were not built to withstand open sea. On the contrary; they seemed to frequent the shallows directly off the coast of their paradise, but never venture into the reach of any notable ocean current. For all the curiosity and openness the elves of this lost isle exuded, they did not appear to be a current culture of exploration. That presented a very obvious predicament to himself and his…travelling companion.

Though it did also beg a few questions that had more to do with _his_ curiosity than the issues at hand. Where had this settlement come from? There were striking similarities between the architecture and style of this village and its sister on the mainland, Heimdall; but at the same time, there were marked differences. For one thing, there was no demand that they, as foreigners, make themselves scarce. They seemed so genuinely interested in, even excited by this new presence. The fact that they were looking after Raine at all was enough to separate the two villages by miles. Who _were _these elves?

…Not that they were likely to have any shortage of time to find out, a nagging voice reminded him. Regal closed his eyes and neatly sequestered that particular reality away for the time being. There was no use worrying over that right now. He would talk it over with Raine…when she had recovered. He cast another quick glance over his shoulder, but this time his attention lingered. A figure was coming out toward him, half-silhouetted in the rapidly dimming light.

He turned to face the approaching woman—for woman it was. That much he could quite easily tell now, by the pretty dress whose hem fluttered about her probably bare feet in the evening breeze, and the outline of her figure was not exactly diminished by the cloth. With any luck, it was one of the elves coming to tell him Raine was awake. Or…three—the first figure appeared to be flanked by two others, slightly smaller but also female. The women here travelled in packs, it seemed. One corner of his mouth twitched involuntarily at the observation.

Still some distance off, the trio paused. Their apparent leader turned to the others, and he watched in a dumb intrigue that made him feel like a first-time tourist in Altamira as they shared some short discourse before the other two began to shuffle back toward the village, hand-in-hand and throwing frequent glances over their shoulders. Only when they had finally broken into a jovial trot did the young lady they had left behind turn toward him and proceed once more in her original path. All the while, he had stood there quite oblivious to just who _was _now approaching him.

In retrospect, he might have utilized some intellectual power to guess; it didn't occur to him to see as familiar the way she habitually turned her right palm inward and clasped it near her body with the other hand. But in his defense, he had never expected such a sight to present itself.

Regal blinked as she stepped from the shadowy boundaries of his little spot and into his visual range. It was even a moment longer, after he had seen her face, until he fully recognized its features. The slight and delicate form doing beautiful justice to the folds of this light, summery dress was not one of the picturesque elves offering open hospitality, but _Raine_. Despite himself, he could feel the surprise taking shape in his own face.

The breeze played with her hair as it did her skirt, as though begging her to join in the whimsicality that seemed to pervade the rest of island. Her sleeves were long, but they were loose and lightweight, sitting just off each shoulder. He could tell by the way she held her posture—tense along the right side—that the implications of this were not lost on her. Indeed, with the cut of the neckline, he was at last privy to the culmination of a scar to which he had only been offered hints before. But despite that, even while his own nature could not keep his gut from tightening in renewed anger and pity at the brand, most of his attention was quite firmly held elsewhere.

Raine Sage stood before him, a young woman whose light complexion had turned almost porcelain against the fading dusk and the light color of her clothing. There was just enough of the hazy sunset to add a glint of life to her eyes, when they weren't partially obscured by teasing strands of straight, neatly brushed hair. Not shrouded in her usual no-nonsense attire, not hiding her face behind a book—or a scowl—not hiding the telltale shape of her ears, or delivering a lecture or reprimand…

She was actually a very beautiful woman—even more so than Zelos' endless, empty words could serve much credit. More so than he himself had ever bothered to notice. It was startling. Luckily for her, the tide rose a bit further and wet the sand beneath his feet, causing a subtle shift. Subtle, but enough to break him from his embarrassing awe.

"Raine," he greeted, stepping carefully away from the mischievous waterline to approach her instead. His own clothes came from the generosity of the native people, and he was rather reluctant to soil them with sand and seawater. He reached out a hand automatically, hovering it just an inch or so from her arm as the dreamlike reverie to which he had momentarily succumbed dissipated. Instead, the reality of their experience, and the practicality and concern of his natural being settled into place. "Are you alright?" Their last interaction, after all, had been…harrowing.

Raine shook her head dismissively. Had he continued in his close observation and scrutiny, he might have supposed a faint, flustered tint to be playing across her cheeks. As it was, such fine details were lost to the evening. "I'm fine," she replied, tersely. She had reacted to his near-touch by a slight, reflexive recoil of her left shoulder as well, and he lowered his hand a bit for her sake. Up close, he could make out several lines of tension in her body, and not only because of the scar revealed with such seeming carelessness by those responsible for her dress. For surely Professor Sage had not of her own volition opted for such attire. "Where are we?"

He took a glance around, finally dropping his hand back to his side. "I wish I knew," he replied in reluctant sincerity. "It's an island I know nothing about. I don't recall any mention of such a place as this ever reaching Tethe'alla." Regal chanced a fleeting look her way. "The only elves of whom _I _was aware lived in Heimdall." She had been raised in the secluded village… Of the two of them, she would have been more likely to know anything about another settlement. "…Did you ever hear anything about—"

"No."

He was stopped right in the middle of forming a word. Taken aback, he blinked at her and allowed his mouth to close. An awkward beat of silence took him as he scrambled back to his feet mentally, but he consoled himself with the concession that she had only just awoken in this strange place, after a very traumatic experience, while he had had some time to allow the information to settle and sink in. "I didn't expect you to," he admitted, turning a little to face the sea again.

"How long?"

He cast his eyes back toward her, taking a few seconds to register the meaning of her clipped inquiry. "Have we been here?" he guessed. When she didn't look at him or make any verbal reply, he carefully pressed on, leveling his gaze at the now-dark horizon almost apologetically. "I'm not certain. It has been a day or two since I revived; before that, I couldn't say. As I'm sure you have, by now, discovered, these people do not share our language." …Or rather, perhaps he should say _his _language? He had seen her speak to them…

"I am aware, yes."

"…Do you speak Elvish, Raine?" It was asked in a neutral, very level tone, though he was quietly hopeful.

From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw her stiffen for an instant as though bristling at the very words. But instead of a scathing reply, she offered a simple, "I know enough."

He couldn't lie: her answer was something of a relief to him—for all that it seemed a bitter taste in _her _mouth. "Good—I'm glad," he corrected smoothly. Perhaps not much better, but the best he could do. "Thus far, communication has proven problematic. Have you spoken much with them?"

"No."

Regal shook his head slightly. A fine time she had picked to resort to monosyllabic responses. Poor woman. But as he drew a breath to speak again, he was again cut off by her own voice.

"…We need to figure out where we are, and how exactly we are going to get home."

When he shifted to look at her again, her stony gaze was still very pointedly directed out over the ocean (from which she was certainly keeping fair distance). He couldn't help but be a little surprised by such a statement—not because she wanted to leave, for that was a natural reaction by anyone marooned—but because he was sure she knew very well that, if there _was _a way to leave, it would be by sea. His brow had risen in display of his sentiment before he could stop it. Luckily, she wasn't looking at him.

"…Agreed." He did not at that moment mention his misgivings about there even _being _a viable way to leave. She already appeared touchy, and to make such a suggestion at such an…inopportune moment would do neither of them much good. Instead, he allowed silence to cool the tension for a moment, before he ventured to speak again. "As far as I can tell, we are the only ones here." Meaning, of course, that the rest of those aboard the ship had either escaped their fate and weathered the storm—or, in a much less optimistic assumption, they had all simply been lost at sea. Personally, he chose the former. "That we even had the fortune to find such safety is a miracle," he added, perhaps as a cautious broaching of his earlier concerns.

She finally looked at him, her expression cast mostly in shadow and therefore even more unreadable than usual. "Miracle," she repeated, less than enthusiastic. "So the disaster of nature which necessitated this 'safety' is simple happenstance, but an equally chance occurrence is regarded as a 'miracle.' I never took you for a man of _providential _outlook."

Far from the quasi-goddess figure she had seemed upon his first glimpse of her, she now appeared a shadow in and of herself. He was not entirely surprised, and not in the least offended. Rather, he felt sympathy for her. Her last memories _had _been terrifying, traumatic. She hadn't had anything to eat or drink, to his knowledge, in at least two days—very likely more, considering his own extended incapacitation and the fact that he had seen her take nothing _during _the voyage—and the situation to which she had awoken was scarcely a comforting one. He could hardly take her frayed nerves personally.

"Just a figure of speech," he assured her. Admittedly, he wasn't entirely certain how _to _deal with her. Friend as she was, and knack for insight to her character as he seemed to possess, she was still something of a puzzle.

Raine paused, then looked away again. The glower he hadn't been able to see now registered in the absence he felt of the heat in her gaze. "…I'm sorry," she offered after a pause. It wasn't a _warm_ statement, but it did not hold the same bite to it. However, she characteristically forced a change of subject and faced him head-on. The rising moonlight passed fleetingly over her face, and he could detect the tension still there. Yet he dismissed this, too, as a product of their experiences. "Have you learned anything about this place?"

Regal shook his head again—though, remembering that motions were somewhat obscured by the darkness, he added a verbal, "No, not much. As I said, communication with these people has proved a challenge for me. I have never encountered such a language barrier before."

"No. You wouldn't have. The only variation of language which survives in the world is the distinction between what is commonly and mistakenly referred to as the 'human' tongue, and elvish. And since the elves are well known to keep to themselves and share _nothing_, you could hardly be expected to run into their language."

"That is true," he agreed evenly. "…Nevertheless," he began with a little caution, "I'm glad to have you here to translate." Half of a smile, really formed for the purpose of trying to lift his own spirits, settled on his lips. "I have a feeling they'll feel the same way. There are only so many things which can be said with gestures and quizzical facial expressions."

The only response he could make out with any clarity was a soft, humorless sniff, and his attempted smile faded again. Raine was intelligent—brilliant. Undoubtedly, she herself did not miss the reality of the hand they'd been dealt. Piled atop everything else… Well. One thing, at least, he could do. He had not been able to spare her from her assailant in Altamira, nor had he truly ensured her safety by escorting her across the sea himself—quite the opposite, a dry voice observed in the back of his mind—but they were here now, and they were, at the very least, together. He was extremely grateful to have a familiar presence, and would have been even had it not been for her bilingual heritage; certainly, he was capable of serving the same purpose for her. Too often, it seemed to him, Professor Sage found herself in isolation. It was something they appeared to have in common. On some level or another, however, they would need each other if they were to stand the best chances of coming through this mess unscathed.

Ah, but first things first. Carefully, taking into account the limited visibility, he reached out with his right hand (he had no desire to further her discomfort by reminding her of the scar, about which he was still curious but which he hardly thought to be a topic for the present moment) and found the cloth of her sleeve with his fingertips. Under his touch she gave a start, but he held her only very loosely, cradling her elbow more than anything else. "We should return to the village. I would assume you have not eaten—Raine, I can hear your stomach growling—and we both need rest."

"I would prefer to stay out here."

Again, he found himself thrown a little off-balance, but he recovered himself more quickly and gave his head another gentle shake. "The inhabitants of this island have been nothing but hospitable; I don't think we have anything to worry about. And if we are to learn more about this place and what it is we're up against, I think we should take advantage of their generosity—"

"There is very little we can do this evening on that particular front," she stated. "I would like to remain in the quiet and outside this culture we know nothing about until we have a better feel for what is going on. The only experience either one of us has with elves is Heimdall's example. We know nothing about this island or its natives, and while there has been no incident _yet_, I am not going to place myself into their hands without a very good basis for such unconditional trust. Whether they _intend _us ill or not, we simply do not know enough. I've no intention of going through this blind. For tonight, I want to keep my distance."

He was tempted to remind her that he _had _spent a coherent night in the village, while she had been under their diligent care; that the elves were probably the reason they had made it past being half-drowned rats washed up on some forgotten beach in the middle of the ocean. Again, his common sense—and his own sense of decency—stopped him. While it bothered him, because he felt absolutely certain that she knew the irrationality of her argument and was simply being somewhat inexplicably stubborn, he was not going to push her this time. Not about that. There were enough other battles to fight, and this one, at this moment, with this woman, was not one he cared to try out.

"…Alright," he finally relented. "But you will forgive me if I remain with you. Besides the fact that I myself am utterly lost in discussion among them, I am not particularly inclined to desert you here on the coast of an uncharted island overnight." Did he really expect her to fight his presence? No, not particularly; but experience had made him cautious at times, and it was always better to specify needlessly than to neglect saying something that should be articulated.

In the end, she did not argue. Actually, she said very little after that, and from what he could tell she remained standing where she was, looking out over the ocean from behind the mask she wore so skillfully. He wanted to know what was running through her mind, but he did not press. He wanted, as he heard the rustle of cloth and made out the shape of her hand now resting on her shoulder to cover the scar which almost shone in the darkness, to say something—but what? All he could feasibly do was lower himself to the sand still warm from a full day's sunning and lean back on his palms, giving her space and allowing his own mind to begin working away, now that he no longer had to worry about her health.

Though somewhere in the back of his head, even if he did not realize it, he was curious. And he did worry.

* * *

><p>D'aww, Regal. You sweetie. Poor, unwitting sweetipie.<p>

Raine: One would think he would be a little more...savvy by now.

Oh Raine. Everyone knows there's zero continuity between the thousands of fics out there!

Raine: Clearly. Your portfolio alone is enough to prove that; HOW many times now, dear Maiya, have we "fallen in love," faced contradictory dangers, and DIED at the tips of your typing fingers?

I lost count. I can check...

Raine: ...Not the point.


	11. Chapter 11

Yaaaaayy! I finally pushed through my horrible Writer's Block and squeezed out a new chapter. n.n

Raine: ...That sounds so...pleasant.

Don't it, though? Blood, sweat, and tears, man.

Raine: Charming. If you didn't keep your space heater of a laptop on you while laying under two blankets on your bed in sixty degree weather, you might not sweat; and I hesitate to even ask how you could possibly break skin while _typing_.

...What about the tears?

Raine: That just means you have the emotional stability of a woman giving birth.

Wow. That was a special image, Raine.

Raine: When in Rome.

...Touché.

* * *

><p>She envied him. Sometime during the course of the night, he had fallen asleep; she had heard the deep, steady rhythm of his breath, and he had ceased to stir. Even the idea of slumber, in her case, had been and continued to be laughable. Her body was exhausted, but the peace that invited sleep was sorely lacking. A flurry of emotion tormented her mind, mocking every attempt to become that smooth, stony surface she presented to the world. She almost wanted someone, something, to single out one feeling, hand it to her on a sheet of paper, and say to her, "This is your assignment. Find the solution to this equation; nothing else matters." Unfortunately, to find the logic in this situation, in her own turmoil, was to face so many conflicting influences that she hardly knew where she could even hope to begin.<p>

After she had become certain that Regal was, in fact, asleep—and only then—Raine had allowed her body to give and crumbled to the sand with a muffled _thud_. With one hand she supported what remained of her balance. The blemished hand came up to splay over her face as she took in as deep a shuddering breath as her lungs could possibly contain and held it as long as she could before letting it pass gently through pursed lips. Never, never had she imagined circumstances such as these. She had always known the cruel indifference of reality, the great possibility of and propensity for suffering, misfortune, and hardship. People were killed, livelihoods ruined, connections lost and relationships broken. But this… This was sadistic.

Her hand fell away and dropped into her lap as she straightened her posture a little. Drawing her knees closer to her chest in a vague and absent motion, she let her head tilt back wearily. She had been unconscious for several days, according to her companion, but she had so little energy. Undoubtedly this was at least in part due to a lack of sustenance. She was heavy, achy. She was tired—but she wasn't _sleepy_. Or perhaps she was, but her body knew how ludicrous and futile a hope that would be in light of the situation. She couldn't even summon the bitter, mirthless laugh that teased her chest.

…One thought at a time. That was the _only _way she would retain any fraction of her sanity. She _had _to set herself in some kind of order.

Elves.

The eyes she had not even realized had closed now opened to stare up at a black tapestry with thousands of tiny pinpricks of light that stretched endlessly in every direction, only to disappear in the distance where it was met by the gently rolling foam of the ocean. A gentle breeze passed over her face, drawing strands of hair across her forehead, her cheek, her nose. The day she had left Heimdall, eleven years old and already knowing so clearly the curse with which she had been born, she had never expected she would see the hermitic people again. Then, on her own and responsible for the safety of her infant brother, she had been forced into the vilest façade she had ever created and claimed to be that which despised her most. And again, even after the painful relief of shedding such a mask, the Journey of Regeneration had again carved out a path for her back to her black roots, where nothing had changed, and her history was spat right back into her face. And now, having finally rid herself of Heimdall, having traded the disdain of one self-righteous people for that of another, having accepted for herself the reality that she was what she was, having been forced to choose the human world despite its lingering hatred, belonging nowhere but by necessity choosing the lesser of two evils, she was here. She was here, among elves, reminded once more that she was different not just from _one_ race, but from both.

She turned her head toward the steady sound of his breath. On one side of her was Regal. He was human. He knew little to nothing about elven culture, elven sentiments, elven history; but he knew what he was. He knew his race, and he knew his place within it. He would live like a human man, think like a human man, experience like a human man, even though he had been thrown into such a wildly unfamiliar world. He was, by the simple fact that he had been born to two human parents, granted the _right _to that human society and mindset. Without malice, without anger for the man himself, she turned her head away again.

On the other side was the village of elves. This was their home, their territory. They didn't know Regal, didn't know her, but they were an entity in themselves. They were automatically banded together by their identity, and no matter what strange anomalies passed into or through their existence, they would always be _elves_. Their culture and history was _elven_. They, too, knew what they were, and what they were not.

She knew what she wasn't, because she was told on a daily basis by the world, her own reflection, and the sight of everyone around her. She wasn't human. She wasn't elven. She _was _half-elven—but what did that mean? She was too elven for the human world; too human for the elven world, and there was no true unity among her mutt-people. They were simply absorbed into the world while being held at arms' length by both sides. This time, the humorless smirk did twist her lips very briefly. Here she was, literally between her two halves. No subtlety in this irony.

Raine kneaded her forehead. She had once professed to be glad of her race, and she had not lied. She _had _met her friends, the only people she had ever allowed herself for care for outside of Genis, because of what she was. But it was tiring. Her branded hand spread itself before her face, and she could just barely make out the ghastly-white scar painted across her palm. It was tiring, always being between. But she had adapted to the human world out of necessity, and she had found acceptance there. And now where was she? Thrown back into the wolves' den, where she would watch these perfect, picturesque dolls hold above her what she wasn't, had never been, and would never be. She did not want to be elven. They did not hate her because they were afraid of her, as the humans did. They hated her because she wasn't _good enough_. Her fingers closed over the scar in a fist that she touched back to her face. She did not belong. Why did it have to be _here_?

She felt empty as she settled her forearms against her knees, letting the breeze continue to toy with her sleeves; almost depressed, but with narrowing eyes she shoved it away. One train of thought processed, she told herself. It had reached no satisfying conclusion or solution, but it was no longer a jumble of inarticulate passion. These people would not get to her, not this time. She would lock it away, she would hold herself apart and determinate, and their false, sickening attempts at assimilation would fail. Period. …Moving on.

She closed her eyes, sitting still and serene save for the faint, nearly imperceptible tremble of her body in its exhaustion and frailty. The next thought to rise to the surface of her own personal, roiling ocean, however, sent a chill to her fingertips. Genis.

He would be a few days into the term now, getting himself settled, excelling in his classes, rightfully earning the admiration of peers and teachers alike. Palmacosta was safe. Neil was there; Chocolat was there; Colette was always nearby. The school wanted him there. Really, it was a leap for the acceptance of half-elves—as far as Sylvarant went. No, she was confident, blessedly confident, that he would face no violence. He had never backed down during their campaign in the face of harsh words. He was growing up, growing into himself, and she was so proud of him. But what would happen when his letters went unanswered? When news of Altamira's flagship and its demise rippled along and spread through the mainland? She might never see him again—probably never would see him again. Despite the fierce desire to find an escape from this island, and the tension that still lingered regarding that particular issue, she was well aware of just how slim their chances were. This was not the way it should have ended. He would never know what had happened. To him, she would be dead.

She almost wished she was.

Raine wet her lips with the tip of her tongue and drew in the lower to chew on it gently as she opened her eyes. Her heart had stopped pounding, and she felt less overwhelmed—but she felt no less burdened, no less agitated. No lighter. She set her elbows against her knees and rubbed her face with both hands. The faint, sweet perfume of the garments—or maybe it was _her_, some part of her mused bitterly—sickened her, and she dropped her hands away. She was so tempted to get up, to just…walk. She wanted to leave everything behind, to white out herself, the world, and everything in between. She was nearing her breaking point, and she knew it. The scream of a frustrated child twisted in her gut until, for just a fleeting instant, all she wanted was to release it with an abandon she had never permitted herself before. She wanted everything, just for a while, or maybe for good—to _stop_.

Faint sounds of stirring nearby made her tense and snap out of her window of anger. Slowly, she relaxed. Her shoulders fell again, sagging with exhaustion, but resignation of a sort. She did not have the option of leaving. If she vanished, Regal would worry. Besides, she was not naïve; one could not simply _leave _reality. Not without much less pleasant implications, at least.

Taking her eyes away from the man beside her, she realized for the first time that the first glimmerings of dawn were threatening to creep into the darkness. Her lashes fluttered in a few quick blinks. She was not _surprised _that she had passed the entire night in harrowing thought and a distinct lack of rest, but for some reason, the idea of a new morning breaking so peacefully and unassumingly struck her for an instant. She shook her head and released a quiet little puff of a sigh just as the shifting, restless sound next to her grew more prominent. By the time the pale glow began to give any vague shape to her face for the opening eyes of her companion, her expression was stony and unreadable again.

Regal sat up slowly, the back of one hand pressed gently to his mouth in the unconscious impulse to hide a yawn, and gave the rising morn a bleary blink or two. Dusty sand trickled down from out of the folds of his clothing, though it took the fingers of his free hand to shake it from his hair. Again, she felt a dry stab of jealousy for his ability, the luxury, of sleep. She simply watched him, though, a less cynical part of her mind grateful for his sake that it was a luxury he _did _have.

Drawing one leg toward him, he cast a vague glance around before settling his gaze upon her. There was a subtle trace of relief in that gaze, and she had to wonder for a moment if he himself hadn't half-expected her to have simply up and disappeared. "…I apologize," he offered, his voice a little gravelly. He rubbed his eyes with thumb and middle finger straddling the bridge of his nose and let his hand drop onto his knee afterward. He seemed a little embarrassed at having dozed off.

"No need," she replied coolly. "As far as I'm aware, people are generally expected to sleep through the night."

Now looking a little more lucid, he seemed to examine her. She met his eyes evenly for a few seconds. That odd, familiar tingling tension crept up toward her shoulders under his gentle scrutiny, and she became with a chill quite conscious of the scar now in plain sight. He was looking at her face; but that didn't matter. He was more than capable of making her feel exposed and threatened, and all he had to do was look at her. Say just the right thing. _Be there_. She turned her head away and rose to her feet, forced to be mindful of the hem of her dress lest she topple over. She felt unsteady enough as it was.

"Were you able to sleep?" he ventured. She could hear the subtle concern in his voice, and she shrugged it off with a twitch of her unmarked shoulder.

"I have been sleeping for at least two days, yes?"

A little stiffly, he followed her example and pushed to his feet. Regal brushed the remainder of the sand from his clothing, though he still watched her. "You and I both know that there is a difference."

She turned to face him head-on, chin tilted up to accommodate his height, but also in a faint defiance and confidence. "There was a great deal to think about and process. Besides, I hardly think one night will kill me." She had considered outright lying and telling him she _had _slept—but he would have seen through it, she was certain. It was easier to maintain control of the situation if she gave a little rein. Her shoulder itched, and with an automatic glance at it, the corner of her mouth twitched unpleasantly. Without even thinking, she tucked her right arm around her body, hiding her palm against her side, and laid her left hand over the brand. Her lips pursed into a thin, white line, and she braced herself in the beat of silence which followed for the inevitable remark he would make about it.

"…Are you cold?" came a soft voice, closer than before.

Regal had crossed a little of the already small distance between them, untying the almost wrap-like outer layer of his shirt. She startled at this closeness, but before she had a chance to recoil, he had draped the cloth around her and settled it snugly over her shoulders. She instinctively hooked her fingers into it, holding it in place, and watched as he stepped backward again. After a hesitation, she offered a cautious, "Thank you…"

"Of course."

Raine eyed him for just a moment longer, but he said nothing about the incident. She was certain, however, that she had not actually appeared cold. She would have to tread carefully around this one.

'…Now that it is daylight, I would like to take a look around this island. There might be some clue about where we are." She knew he had to have explored already, but there was still the possibility that she could catch something he had missed. Perhaps they were in Sylvaranti waters, and she could recognize something he couldn't.

Anything to stay away from the village for as long as she possibly could.

"I didn't notice anything particularly familiar," he replied, glancing over his shoulder briefly. "But I will defer to your being much more widely read than I am."

She inclined her head. "We have nothing to lose," she remarked without exactly intending to; but she turned away and stared full in the face of the island antagonist, which she could finally see in the hazy morning light. The pleasant, easy beauty of the trees and rises and cliffs was lost on her. All she saw was a monster.

Nothing to lose.

* * *

><p>Awww... You have to admit, that was cute.<p>

Raine: I have to do nothing.

But Raine, he's being so sweet!

Raine: I want no part in this.

Duh. You spent two thousand words in an inner monologue telling us all about how you didn't want to be part of it.

Raine: Maiya.

Yes'm~?

Raine: I loathe you.


	12. Chapter 12

BWAH. I finally typed this bad boy up.

Raine: And it only took you three months. I believe that's a record, Maiya.

Heehe-hey. When I first started here, I was uploading chapters, like, nightly.

Raine: And we all know they were even more horrendous than such as...these.

...Okay, they're fic chapters, Raine, not dead rodents. No need to get all snooty-royal on me.

Raine: Shut up and post the chapter, idiot. It gives me at least a brief reprieve from your out of character foolishness.

That's what you think.

* * *

><p>As he walked behind her, he kept his eye very carefully on her posture, her gait. She herself had admitted to not sleeping, she hadn't eaten in Martel-knew how long, and she was…affected. As hard as she must be trying to hide it, Regal Bryant was no fool. There was a great deal weighing on that brilliant mind, even if he could not put a finger to it. Perhaps the fact alone that he could so easily see the tension pulling every muscle was proof enough of how great the burden. Or perhaps he was simply learning. Either way, he had no intention of letting her stumble and hurt herself, as depleted as she inevitably was. Though she was holding her own, certainly; he didn't have to be conscious of their difference in length of stride at the moment, so quick was her agitated step.<p>

For a while, he stayed silent. He watched her take in the surroundings with none of the appreciation, intrigue, or curiosity he half-expected from her when it came to anything out of the ordinary. She scarcely stopped, and when she did it appeared to be either because she was regaining her footing, or she was catching her breath. There were to be no detours here, that much was apparent. Even a strange little blossom, bearing three long, tapered petals of a rather captivating green which surely would have been of _some _interest to the enthusiastic scholar he had seen lurking just below the iced-over surface of this woman, found itself quite unceremoniously flattened under her foot without so much as a glance from violent eyes. He actually caught himself flinching and was almost amused at his own reaction. But it worried him more than anything else, and the smile never formed.

She _needed _food. And proper rest. They both did. It was a bleak situation, undeniably, but there was no point in pacing the perimeter of the island like caged animals. They had to be patient, and patience was a trait he had often associated with Raine, until now. All bets seemed to be off, here, and it was something he just couldn't quite puzzle out. They had been in trouble, even vaguely similar trouble, before, and hers had always been the voice to caution futile and wasted effort; yet here she was, straining against the leash, heedless of any logic or practicality. Just like Lloyd.

…Not that he would inform her of that.

Regal coughed in a half-smothered impulse to laugh at the very thought. The sound startled his companion, though, and he watched her jump nearly off the very ground mid-step. Brow raised in surprise, and forgetting how disastrously his last attempt had ended, he shot out his arms and stepped forward quickly to catch the woman who very well might have wound up in the shrubbery had he not acted. "Raine—"

She wasn't at all heavy, but he had been caught just enough off his guard so as to make a perfectly elegant rescue quite impossible. In the end, though, they were both still upright, and that, he decided, qualified as a success. Unfortunately, just because the base goal had been achieved, that did not mean it had been achieved…_well_.

Between his instinctive grasping and her misstep, somehow the two of them had ended up a good foot from where they had been. His feet were spread, heels dug into soft earth for balance and steadiness. She had tumbled into him—or perhaps he had automatically drawn her in close. Either way, she was half-crumbled against his chest, nose crinkled and one eye squeezed shut in a cringe, and both of his arms were about her waist, supporting her weight against the foundation of his own frame. For a moment, there was only the faint flutter and rustle of a few plants they had disturbed settling back into place. He blinked around briefly through a few stray strands of hair now in his face, but ultimately his gaze tilted down to the little form he was gripping like her life depended on it. Regal couldn't help the faint, bemused, almost sympathetic little quirk of his lips her expression and the situation together evoked.

"…I apologize for startling you," he offered sincerely in a somewhat hushed voice, mindful of her apparent sensitivity to abrupt sounds. He was attempting to keep the situation as a whole as calm as possible. But as he carefully relaxed his grip, it was his turn to be startled—as soon as he had let up the pressure at her waist, she almost savagely thrust one hand flat against his chest and shoved herself free entirely, turning her head away and shrinking into herself a bit several inches from him as the wrap he had given her fell in a heap on the ground. He saw the deep breath she took in the slow rise and heavy fall of her shoulders. "Are you alright?" His voice, try as he might to remain neutral, was not without a note of puzzlement this time. His brow creased slightly in a frown as something occurred to him. "Did I hurt you?"

Raine, who had thus far been completely silent and turned away from him, shook her head and finally shifted so he could see that fair, stony profile. "No. I'm fine. Thank you. We should keep going."

And so she plainly intended to do. Without another word, his companion turned again and began to walk, but rationality was not lost to one of them yet, at least. Not so much as budging an inch, he stood his ground and stared straight after her. "Raine," he hailed, not harshly, but firmly, definitively. He was glad when she stopped in her tracks, waited a split second, and then looked back over her shoulder at him. Even if she was wearing something reminiscent of her no-nonsense _professor _expression of impatient and intolerant expectation. Inclining his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment of her response, he closed the gap between them. He did hesitate for just a moment, but finally his hand came down to rest on her—unblemished—shoulder, and he turned her around gently, teasing the ends of her hair with his fingers inadvertently.

"I know," he began quite diplomatically (he was never more thankful for his political experience and noble upbringing than when dealing with Raine Sage, he mused), "that you are eager to assess the situation and find a solution. But you are exhausted; you _need _to eat _something_…" Regal paused again, not quite sure about the next statement. It had to be said, though. "…In the state you are in now, you will _not _be thinking straight." He did not make explicit his concerns about her ever-present tension, though they lurked in subtle undertones; and nor did he express what they both likely knew, which was that the only viable "solution" may well turn out to be acceptance. The muscles in his fingers twitched with an instinctual impulse to take her chin, but his better judgment nipped that in the bud even before it rose to his conscious mind.

Raine pursed her lips. She didn't say anything at first, and he was actually just glad she was holding eye contact with him—it seemed like a good sign, perhaps. And it gave him a chance to study her face and search it. But it didn't last, and she finally turned it slightly to the side with a quick, quiet sniff. He himself tilted his head just a little to the side to follow her movements in anticipation of her answer.

"…Fine."

Another success. Regal drew himself back up into a straight posture and dipped his head again in, perhaps relieved, appreciation of her agreement. "Good." With his best political smile, he retreated back several steps to retrieve the discarded wrap. The man cast one glance over his shoulder as he stood back up with cloth in hand to make certain she actually was going to follow him. She stood rooted there like one of the many vibrant trees surrounding her for a moment, but their eyes locked briefly, and he did not even blink until she began to come toward him.

When she reached him he offered the wrap again without comment, careful to keep his eyes on her face. She shook her head in refusal after a beat, but she was holding herself at an awkward angle, and it wasn't really difficult to guess why. A little surge of anger fluttered in his gut at the thought that, whomever her assailants had been, they had left a mark on more than just her body. How recent must the incident have been if it still affected her so? Or would that really even matter? Psychological wounds were…more difficult to mend, as well he knew. But he shook the thoughts away and draped the cloth over his forearm so it would be convenient if she did need it. Or want it—but she wouldn't ask. He knew _that _much about the proud woman trailing after him as they made their way back toward the village of elves.

Silence overtook them once again. Every so often he would glance fleetingly over his shoulder to check on her; though by the soft, light footsteps behind him he was able to at least be sure she was still following. They cleared the quiet woods, and he paused where the ground seemed to melt into sand until it hit the ocean. Regal took a few seconds to look at that ocean while his companion extracted herself from the brush behind him. It was strange to look at the sea and consider it as an obstacle, rather than a path; an antagonist rather than a touchy friend—to look at it and _not _know that he was a few preparations away from crossing it. He had never had that problem before; sailing had never been a question of _if_, but _when_ and _where_.

Movement from the corner of his eye drew his gaze briefly sideways. Raine had joined him and stood at his side, staring, as he, over the water. Her expression was closed and hard, but her eyes gave just enough of a hint. Yes, they _were _both very aware of the reality. This unknown island might just be their new home whether they liked it or not, these strangers their new community. He turned back to the soft waves and squinted a little toward the horizon. Apologizing for this would do no good; he was not _exactly _responsible for the situation. It had been a freak accident. It didn't even occur to him that, had he not brought her along, there probably would not have been any such casualties as them—he did not, even for an instant, regret what he had done on the ship. Being here, as difficult as it was, was infinitely better than the loss of her life.

Still, he was sorry that this had been the result of his attempt to help her. Always with good intentions, but terrible luck for the women with whom he associated. It was ironic…but not amusing. He closed his eyes, bowed his head for an instant, and then lifted one hand to hover it near her back in order to, carefully, catch her attention. She glanced his way, and he nodded along the beach, back toward the distant cluster of homes, and they left the melancholy scene behind them.

They walked side by side for a minute, but as they got closer and closer to the village, Regal found himself leading once again by several inches. Raine was certainly not eager to return, but he let her trail behind until they came upon two girls—women? It was difficult to tell with elves. They looked young, but in the scheme of a thousand-year lifespan, they could have been vastly older than he was and still look like adolescents. Odd, when he thought about it, He decided not to think about it.

The two young ladies were tending to clothing hung over a line strung between two wooden poles. With quick and nimble fingers and cheerful faces, they tugged one garment down, gave it a shake, and neatly folded it away into one basket only to pick another up from an adjacent basket and hang it. All the while, they giggled and chattered away in their exotic, even beautiful language. But when they caught sight of the newcomers, conversation halted for a moment. They blinked, and their faces brightened into pretty, shining grins.

"Taela!" one exclaimed. "Aryn vureal en da kara, kumite iel dur thei." She and her companion shared a glance, and the one not speaking lapsed into giggles as both sets of eyes landed back on the outsiders. "Fee toma thiel. Ona ne ledyn dora."

From behind him, he heard the derisive, altogether unamused snort from his own colleague, and it made him more curious. With raised eyebrow, he glanced over his shoulder at Raine's rolling eyes. "…Do I want to know?" he asked in a low tone, trying to tease her—and failing miserably, by the look on her face.

"It wasn't important. They did call you _beautiful_, though."

Regal blinked his eyes. That was…not a compliment he could ever remember receiving before in his life. And to be quite honest, his masculinity was altogether at a loss for how to feel about it now. "Ah… Well… That is…flattering, I suppose…" He was mercifully spared from having to give that particular issue much thought, however, as the smaller of the two—the one who had yet to do anything but laugh—came gliding past him toward Raine, her countenance exuberant and bubbly. She even spread her arms in a gesture Regal—who admittedly had very little context—found quite welcoming. The half-elf in question, however, appeared to take it quite differently.

As the girl reached out with one hand, he watched every line in Raine's body tense as though anticipating some painful sensation. She drew one arm around her middle and draped the other over her branded shoulder in a way that looked subconscious. Half of him had an impulse to reach out himself to try and offer some comfort, but the other half didn't know why he would need to. So he watched, albeit closely, as the elf paused and drew her eyes down more level to Raine's shoulder. Professor Sage was not an extraordinarily tall woman, but the top of this girl's head only reached to her chin, and with Raine's odd posture it was only natural that her gaze should fall there. A tiny frown creased the pretty face, a pale lower lip protruding just a little.

"…Dalyn tae vil anathe…?" she asked quietly. Raine just stared, and after a pause the girl spoke again. "Sil voried som—" She had lifted a hand toward the taller woman's, but Regal joined the ripple of mild surprise when the healer jerked back and away with a quick, clipped,

"Fyen!"

He kept his silence, taking in the confused, even worried faces of the two elves as they looked at each other, at him, and back to the abrasive woman before them. It was frustrating to have no idea what the exchange had entailed, but her raised hackles and the anxious appearance of two scolded puppies was enough to make him feel as though he should step in. Somehow. Raine's behavior was baffling, but undoubtedly what she needed most was rest and nutrition. She would, he was confident, feel much better after tending to her physical needs.

The Duke carefully placed himself right next to her. He brushed his hand against her arm and lowered his head toward hers to speak quietly. It wouldn't really matter, since the girls couldn't understand a word he said—but it was the principle, a gesture meant to give them some semblance of privacy. Apparently it was a universally recognized indicator, as the girl nearest Raine backed off to join her companion. "Are you alright?"

He watched as some of the tension dissipated, but noted that it only appeared to do so by force of willpower. Instead of a verbal reply, she closed her eyes, took a slow breath, and nodded gently. The response he had expected, yes. Did that mean he believed it? Not a bit, but it was a problem to be addressed later. To be quite honest, he was more than a little concerned that she might unravel whatever threads of curiosity and hospitality connected them to these elves. The last thing they needed was to make enemies, and Raine Sage was…admittedly good at making enemies at the _best _of times. Rather, she was usually not concerned with making _friends_.

"Nothing is going to happen to you here," he offered in an attempt to appease. "I will be here. Just relax. We need these people." He saw a muscle in her jaw twitch, but he let it go and instead turned toward the two wide, doey pairs of eyes watching them. Hints of a smile crept about his lips despite himself. They just looked like two sweet, innocent children. He offered a gentle nod in their direction, touching his fingertips to his chest to try and get across an apology and gratitude in the same gesture.

Both heads tilted, each in the opposite direction, and after a moment the smiles returned. So resilient, these. The girl Raine had scolded linked her hands behind her back and leaned forward. "Duran tael endyr fol ilvandae?"

With a blink he shifted his gaze sideways to Raine. Her lips were pursed, but her face was otherwise stoic. As though reciting a passage drilled by rote memorization, she translated for him, "Do you wish to eat something?"

Ah, good. Their hosts were, indeed, extremely gracious. He wished he knew how to thank them in their own language—maybe he would ask Raine to teach him that phrase, at least. It seemed to be what he needed most so far. For now, though, all he could do was nod again, his noble background contributing to the situation with a little bit of a bow.

Interestingly enough, it really didn't seem like it mattered at all whether they were grateful or not. This village, these unknown people, positively delighted in their presence, in taking care of them. His acceptance of their offer produced a flurry of excitement in the young ladies. One gave a little hop, clapping her hands together a time or two as her bare feet touched the ground again. The other gathered the rest of the dry clothing with impossible speed (still managing, he marveled dumbly, to keep them neat and organized) and lifted the basket up to settle it between her arm and her hip. Work station clear, they advanced on their unsuspecting guests and snatched up their hands, person for person, to pull and lead and tug them toward the village, despite Raine's recoil and obvious reluctance. His insistent guide was the one holding the basket, and while he tried to offer to carry it for her after regaining his footing and his wits, she simply wouldn't hear of it. So in the end, as they all but flew toward the settlement, he could only follow in bemusement and try not to fall over while his companion did a similar half-trot to avoid tripping over the hem of her dress.

What a fascinating people. Martel had truly spared them.

* * *

><p>...You two are singing very different tunes, Lord Bryant. It's cute. n.n<p>

Raine: ...It's revolting.

Why, because I wrote it?

Raine: One of many reasons, but not what I was referring to.

Care to enlighten?

Raine: Undoubtedly you will go into excruciating detail about that very thing in coming chapters.

SHHH. Don't spoil things!

Raine: How is that not obvious already?!

QUIET. Keep reading. ^^


	13. Chapter 13 (remastered)

**(Hey guys! I know I posted chapter 13 yesterday, but after reading it over, I realized...it sucked. So I did some MAJOR revamping (about a thousand words more than it was) and I hope you like it!)**

Heeee. ^_^ Two weeks! Now that, dear Raine, is a record.

Raine: I knew that convention would be a terrible influence on you. I knew it. Those ridiculous "cosplayers" certainly didn't help matters, either. If Yuan only knew.

Oh, Raine. I got lots of compliments wearing you. xP

Raine: Don't remind me. You look like an idiot, and I am ashamed to have inspired such behavior.

N'awww. Maybe this chapter will cheer you up!

Raine: Considering what happens? Unlikely.

I know. But it makes me happy! :D

* * *

><p>If only the sea had finally taken her for good—how much simpler it would all be. Martel was laughing at them. That was all there was to it.<p>

Raine found herself quite without a choice in the matter as the young elven girl dragged her by her left arm toward the village, giggling and chattering away. She had long since stopped bothering to translate, though, even in her own thoughts—in fact, consciously or otherwise, she was actively refusing to spare any brain cells toward understanding the child-woman. They were about to be fed. That was all she needed to know at the moment, and the faster they got this little attack of hospitality out of their systems, the faster she could satisfy Regal's desire to be a mother hen and leave the sugar-coated settlement once more. She had no choice in going—but by Martel, she would choose when she left.

Beside her was Regal, and she could feel the occasional glance he sent her way. Every time she interacted with the elves, every time she spoke to them or of them, every time _he _mentioned them in her presence, the same expression colored his face. It was beginning to grate on her, being eyed like she was completely insane, or like there was something wrong with being wary and suspicious of a people who, as far as she was concerned, had a very long-standing reputation as antagonizing anything that didn't belong to their tidy, little realm. She was growing uncomfortable under his scrutiny, even uncomfortable around _him_, and she couldn't quite place a finger on why. But none of that, certainly, was helping to ease the painful tension now becoming a constant, rather than a variable in her life.

Raine nearly fell right over when her exuberant escort finally stopped flying, but at least it was enough to bring her senses more outward again. They had reached the village now and found themselves surrounded by little homes, each with unassuming gardens of various flowers and herbs. No two were the same, but all she could think of was how frivolous and impractical they were until the girl on her arm popped back up into her line of sight. The rigid half-elf watched with a hard and unyielding expression as the child waved toward one of the nearby houses. In the soil a man was kneeling, the first male she had seen, tending to a small plot in his own garden while another young lady, presumably his daughter and the girl she recognized vaguely as "Fee," stood by him with a basket of plucked leaves and gathered seeds in hand.

"Fee!" cried the one nearest to her, rising to her toes with a hand cupped to her mouth. "_Come over_!"

Both father and daughter looked up, and both of them smiled. The man lifted one dirt-smudged hand in greeting, and Raine felt her shoulder searing when their eyes met. Her breath caught in her throat; she had to look away before she could breathe again. Some small, shadowy, hidden part of her mind found this reaction odd…but it was not the part of her mind in which she was living today. She grit her teeth, curling her right hand into a fist just as Fee came trotting toward them. While the girls chirped and chattered, little Fee sending shy glances toward Regal every so often, Raine forced her mind to be smooth and blank as stone, and the burning in her arm to fade.

"What's happening?" asked a quiet voice as her side, coinciding with a gentle hand to her other shoulder. She shuddered in surprise under the touch but did not turn around.

"They are discussing preparations, I would assume," she replied without looking at him. He fell silent again, but his hand never lifted. No doubt he was _trying _to be helpful. It really only made her muscles itch to throw him off like a touchy, bristling cat. Fortunately, attention was directed back toward them before she had a chance to act upon the impulse.

When the flurry of unintelligible conversation ceased, the third child—the one who had "led" Regal along before—came around front to stand with the others and face the two outsiders with that same syrupy smile every one of them wore. All three joined hands in eerie unison and beamed, their would-be pleasant expressions striking her as incredibly disturbing. They seemed well aware that only she could understand their language, however, as their apparent spokesperson addressed her.

"Fee _says it is all ready. There is much food and drink to celebrate new friend_," she pointed toward Regal, "_and new sister._" This time she pointed toward Raine, who was and undoubtedly _looked _repulsed by the word. Sister? That was a new one. Abomination, half-breed, creature, mistake—these were the names she was used to hearing in this exotic language. Sister… She scoffed aloud; the girl was undaunted. "_After there is a place for both of you to stay and sleep together._"

Despite herself, Raine felt one eyebrow shoot upward. Some things did _not _translate well—but that was the least of her concerns. She had no intention of staying within the borders of this village, or anywhere within _sight _of it. She was not part of this, part of them, and she was not going to place herself into their hands to wait until they became bored and their exclusive culture finally caught up with them, subject to any manner of behavior and judgment. "_We do not need it._"

The girls tilted their heads at her. "_You are weak,_" the outspoken one asserted. "_Have not eaten in many days, so you must now, okay? _Undine _has brought you to us. Sister…_" She smiled again, touching her free hand to her heart. "_We are one._ _Today is birth, the recognition._" She released her friend's hand and came forward, spreading her arms. Instinctively, Raine drew herself back a bit, eyeing the stranger up and down. She seemed not to mind, though, as she leaned to the side to beam up at Regal while Fee hopped toward him herself. While their features were similar, and their eye colors the same, Raine was in very sharp contrast to this bubbly, bouncy trio.

"_Special day_!" Fee exclaimed, tugging on the man's sleeve. "_Come and eat_!"

When Raine looked over at her poor, very confused colleague, he met her expression with a clear request for help. "She is desperate to feed us, it seems," was her flat, less than excited explanation. The woman was cut off from offering anything else, though, as her own hands were taken by the first speaker before she could pull away; her head whipped forward again so quickly one could have almost expected her neck to snap.

"_Come, come_! _Then after all can eat_!"

Raine narrowed her eyes, put off not only by this unwelcome touch, but by the wording. Come…and eat after? After _what_? The girl tugged forward, and she was forced to take one step before she was able to dig her feet into the ground. Fee had not moved Regal, which made her rather nervous. "_Where are we going_?" she demanded. They had come to _eat_, nothing more. She had not wanted an immediate confrontation with the elves, and she certainly did not want prolonged interaction. Since waking up in this hellish nightmare, it had been one thing after another. Not even her own _mind_ would let her rest. Breathing was becoming a chore, and had she been at all able to look at anything objectively, she might have recognized symptoms of an impending breakdown.

The girl blinked. "…_The recognition_!" she replied, bringing out her perfect smile again. "_No need to be afraid. We are one_!" Again she pulled, and Raine stumbled against the surprising persistence of this young woman with a little gasp teasing her throat. She soon found herself being pulled along once again, every muscle protesting and heart pounding in a sickening mix of anger and panic. They really _weren't_ bringing Regal. Fee was standing at his side, both little arms around one of his, keeping him there with a bright face. She did not want to be _anywhere _alone with these people.

"…Raine…?" he asked, sounding confused. He started to take a step forward, but Fee tugged him back and shook her head with a giggling, "Mm-mm," and he looked from the slight elf to the woman being dragged away quite against her will.

"Regal—" Despite protests in both languages and the straining she did, the third girl had joined the first, and she was whisked away as though on a whirlwind, right out of sight of her companion. She must have resembled a terrified animal, so wide were the eyes that shifted constantly in preparation for…anything. Everything. Whatever was going on.

The jaded woman did _not _appreciate being compelled along by two sentries. She felt like a prisoner being led to her death and showcased for the entertainment and benefit of the masses; people came to their doors and windows—men, women, and children all watching this stranger being paraded through their village. Adrenaline coursed through her veins with impossible volume and rate, and the instinct of flight screamed in her head, but she was trapped. She almost resorted to magic…but they were elves. Any magic she had could undoubtedly be countered, if not bested, here. The heat of anxiety in her fingertips was bested only by the night of the storm. She was not catatonic; she had presence of mind. But she was still…scared.

The walk through the paths of the settlement seemed somehow to last forever, but it was half a blur. Shifting her gaze constantly afforded her no relief and no real picture or idea of the situation. Eventually she had set her eyes on the heels of her escort, simply to avoid the mirth-filled stares of the audience watching their progress. She only realized they had finally entered one of the structures because of the drastic shift in lighting; when her surroundings darkened, she quickly lifted her head in time for the girls to release her hands…and two somewhat older women to step forward. They, too, were smiling.

There was only one room, the one they were in. In the center was an incomplete ring of candles on the floor surrounding a few plush, silky cushions. Right outside this ring, symbols were evenly spaced—symbols…she recognized. Sylph…Undine…Efreet… All of the Summon Spirits were represented, and at the front, flanked closely on either side by Maxwell and Origin, was the sign of the Goddess Martel. But rather than intrigue, curiosity, it lit a match that smoldered beneath her breast with unease, insecurity, and disdain.

Raine pulled her eyes from the ritualistic setting before her and stared at the new faces, tucking her right arm around her body while her left crossed her chest to lay over the exposed right shoulder. "_What am I doing here_?" she demanded, her voice wavering just slightly. The heavy air, thick with a variety of conflicting scents, made her legs want to give way.

One of the women stepped forward as the two girls came around behind her. Their hands brushed against her back, and she jumped, casting her gaze over her shoulder, but a gentle hand touched her jaw and guided her head forward again. "_You are frightened,_" she cooed. Her hand stretched to cup the half-elf's cheek. Raine swallowed and tilted her chin up a little, hardly blinking though clear images were difficult to make out between the dim lighting, perfumed air, and trails of smoke coiling in every direction. In the woman's other hand, what looked like a small wooden bowl held a somewhat viscous substance that shone silver in the dancing light of the candles set about the room. "_You are safe now…_ _You are home_."

"_Answer my question._" She barely moved her mouth, forcing the words through teeth gritted under the foreign touch. "_What am I doing here_?"

At her back, she felt the ties of her dress being unfastened. She heard her own gasp and jerked away in surprise, hitting her shoulder painfully against a nearby wall. A startled ripple went through the other four as well, but the woman who had spoken reached out again. "_Please do not fear. This day is very special._"

"_Why_?" Raine nearly growled. She had been uncomfortable the first time among these elves; it had only gotten worse since then. Exhaustion had set in, and neither mind nor body had been afforded a chance to rest. Every step taken was a very precarious step across thin ice. In her eyes, they were avoiding a very simple question—and people who avoided questions had something to hide. That in itself was enough to fuel the little ember smoldering in her.

They all looked at one another, and then back at her. "_You have been through so much…_" The woman reached out vaguely toward the scar. "_Does it hurt you_?"

Raine jerked her arm back. "_I am fine_," she snapped. Everywhere she went, people saw the brand and fixated upon it. It was becoming so…tiring… She squeezed her eyes shut against the weighty, drowsy influence of the air.

"Undine_ has brought you here, and entrusted you to us. You are with your family now; you are a sister of our people._" She drew her hand back and smiled again in a way that was very unnervingly maternal. It sent a chill through her spine. "_Do not fear." _

As though those words explained everything and made it all perfectly acceptable rather than simply _worsening _Raine's perception of it, the girls moved forward again and tugged at her dress with gentle, practiced fingers. They were trying to slip it from her body, unfastening, unpinning, untying, as the woman holding the bowl dipped her fingers into it and stirred the liquid carefully. The other stood slightly behind, ornate cloth of some sort cradled in her arms. When the first drew her now-silver-tipped fingers from the bowl and hovered them before her face, murmuring an archaic prayer, something finally clicked in her head.

Recognition. Birth. Sisters.

_Assimilation._

Raine tore herself back and away from all of them savagely, nearly falling in the process. "No," she snapped in in rough, gritty common. "No. I won't."

Frowns creased every brow but hers, and with a great deal of effort she forced herself back into elvish. "_I do not want to go through this ritual_." They wanted to make her like them—look like them, act like them, think like them. It was a ceremonymeant to stamp out and absorb her person into their unified whole. That was why they marched her through the village, announcing to the population this "before" picture so they could send her out as an "after." That was why they cloistered her away, safely out of trouble where she couldn't hurt anything. They would try to shape her, to fit her into their neat little box, until they finally realized they couldn't. Because she _wasn't_ like them. And then she would be cast aside again, scorned and detested, blaming _their _failure on _her_. No. That was not going to happen; not again.

"_I will not. Take me back to my friend._" The healer met each other pair of violet eyes in turn, the concern and puzzlement, even pain, completely lost on her. She clutched at the dress she was now only half-wearing securely and kept herself pressed into the corner, away from the scented herbs and flickering candles and everything that belonged to the world she _didn't want._ "_My friend_!" she repeated, stronger. Desperately.

"_He..is not harmed…_"

"Take me back!" she cried again, unable to maintain the effort it took to form the hideous elvish words.

The elves looked around at one another; the children peered uncertainly at their elders, and there were a few murmurs and half-hearted shrugs exchanged among the group. Finally, the bowl was set down on a low wooden stand, and the woman formerly holding it nodded gently to the two girls. They looked considerably less excited now, even disappointed, but Raine didn't care. She wanted out. Cautiously, she stepped—staggered—away from her corner, still clinging to the loose fabric. The younger two inched around behind her and—under her very close scrutiny—worked to lace up the back of her dress again. The instant they were finished, she fled the house.

The stifling, trapped feeling followed her just as the girls did. It hounded her, stalked her, all the way _back _through the village. The house to which they had brought her was far on the outskirts, like a shrine of some sort; as much as she wanted to run, to escape the faithful watch of the elven girls, she wouldn't know where to go. She would never find Regal on her own. …Did she care? she wondered vaguely. Her feet moved, but she wasn't controlling them. She was out of the perfumed, smoky air, but not free of it.

The sky was darkening a little as unassuming clouds gathered overhead; the reminder they brought of the storm only made breathing that much harder. If people were watching again, she never knew. Her eyes were fixed indefinitely on her own shadow looming before her, joined by the two smaller on either side. They did not, would not, move from the ground until that shadow collided with something upright; they had reached a door. Merciful Martel, at long last, they had reached a _door_.

One of her little guardians tapped on it with her fingertips and then nudged it open. Both then stepped back and looked up at her with wide, apologetic eyes that made her skin absolutely crawl. Raine did not linger there to meet their stares. She was not certain what, exactly, she would find inside this new structure, but she wanted to be out of the open and away from the unblinking gazes following her. She felt extremely capable of vomiting despite the lack of anything of substance in her system.

Every line of her body was stiff as she slipped through the partially open door and quickly closed it behind her with a shove of her foot. She opened her eyes just in time to see Regal rising to his feet. Luckily for him, she was able to keep in check the immediate impulse to lash out long enough to recognize him…and then sag back against the door with a thick, bile-tasting swallow.

"Raine. Are you alright?" he asked, crossing the distance with steps muffled by some woven rug underfoot. He looked her over, hand hovering near her arm again.

"I'm fine." She spoke tersely and pulled away from his proximity, out into the middle of the cozy room. There was a table to one side, set low to the floor in a way that reminded the more lucid part of her mind of Mizuho, with cushions for seating purposes. On it was a plethora of different foodstuffs, all looking untouched. He hadn't eaten yet. …She didn't feel particularly hungry.

"What happened?" Regal followed her movements with his eyes, but not his body, undoubtedly trying to give her space. The concern was blatantly apparent in his voice

Raine scoffed bitterly. "They wanted me to join their cult," she replied, only half-sarcastically. At his arched brow, she jerked her head to the side. "They had in mind to make me one of them." It was clear in her voice, as far as she was concerned, how ridiculous the idea was. She lowered her face, hand pressed to her fluttering chest.

"…Fascinating."

Her head whipped around toward him, incredulity present in every feature as her foggy mind unraveled that one, very hollow-sounding word. "…Pardon?"

He had his chin cupped in one hand, a faint smile on his lips, and a look of genuine intrigue in his eyes. When he looked up at her, his expression shared none of the disbelief or anger of her own. She found no camaraderie in that face. The ever-present knot in her stomach twisted. Was he actually _amused_?

"I mean," he began, inclining his head slightly with the look of a thoughtful man, "since our arrival, the elves of this island have been nothing if not accepting of us. They truly are a remarkable people. Did you go through with it?"

She released a harsh laugh, turning away again. "I never took you for a man of naiveté," she informed him. "Do you honestly think they wish us nothing but _health and happiness_?"

"…Yes.," the man offered slowly. "I have no reason to believe they mean to do us any harm. I cannot speak the language, but from the moment of my first interaction with them, they have been…astoundingly generous. Why? What did they ask of you?"

Raine was silent, glaring daggers at the adjacent wall as she leaned on hers with her right hand fisted and chest heaving. Her heart was pounding again. She was losing control; she was breaking. If only he would shut his mouth, just let her be. Disappear altogether. He was making it worse.

When she said nothing, he took a step forward. "Raine?" he repeated gently. Patronizingly. "What have they said? Tell me _why _you believe ill of them. You are the only one of us who can understand their speech, and I cannot read your mind—"

"They haven't asked anything," she snapped, interrupting him. Not yet. But it wouldn't last—she knew that. They _would _get bored. They wanted everything _half _about her smothered.

"…Then why…?"

"They're elves."

He stopped, staring at her. A note of exasperation entered his voice, making her spine tighten painfully. "What does _that _mean? 'They're elves'?"

"Exactly what it sounds like," she shot over her shoulder. "There has never been an elf who was _this _accommodating." She could feel the cracks webbing out across her mind. She wanted him to shut up. She just wanted silence. She _wanted _him to understand, and he wouldn't. She wanted some sort of safety, some place to retreat. And he was not providing that. A very subtle tremble worked its way through a body ready to collapse.

"…That is not an answer… Come here. Sit down—Martel, Raine." He had come toward her again and lifted her face with a finger to her chin to examine it. Her nails dug into the wood of the wall. "Your face is ash white. You _have _to rest—"

"No," she snarled, tearing herself from him, and stumbling in the process of trying to get away. _Shut up_! screamed her unsound mind. "I would rather collapse in the _wilderness_…of this goddess-forsaken island than _here among these people_." He had to understand. He had to just let it drop, leave her be.

He did not. His tone was hard and flat as he spoke. "That is ridiculous," he announced quite bluntly.

Her eyes widened briefly as her heart skipped one beat. She turned around to face him, leveling a scathing glare in his direction. Every word, every gesture, every little nuance of movement just fanned the ember growing in her chest. "I beg…your pardon…"

Regal's expression was strong, hard. Unamused as though dealing with some rebellious adolescent. "That is ridiculous—absolutely…stupid, Raine," he informed her. "You are a rational and logical woman, and that… That is a completely _illogical _statement to make. This ludicrous distrust ends _now_."

Illogical? Irrational? "How dare you," she half-whispered, not even sure he had caught it. Shut up…

"You cannot accuse someone on the basis of race, without any evidence at all, of being something they have clearly shown themselves _not _to be. You of all people should know better than that, and I am tired of your unfounded…obsession with conspiracies and threats that do not exist."

"…How dare you…" she mumbled again. _Stop talking, _part of her urged again—but it was too late. She was angry. Angry with the situation, with the island, with the elves, and now with him. With scarcely any pause at all she repeated herself louder, so there would be _no _doubt: "How _dare _you!" One hand curled into a fist at her side again; even when her fingernails bit into her palm and drew blood, she couldn't even feel it. Every word was an icy slap in the face.

His tone rose to meet hers, undoubtedly an automatic response to her own rising hackles, and she drew further back into herself. "You are tired, you are hungry, and you are under a great deal of stress. Step back. Step back, Raine, and look at the situation as a scientist. A scholar. The brilliant woman you are. Not…this." He gestured with one hand toward her. "Whatever this is."

"You have no idea what you are talking about, Regal," she growled. "You could not _possibly _understand!" That much was obvious now—almost painfully so. She was truly alone here.

"Show me one example, Raine. One example of this village being anything other than hospitable. Give me something other than, _'They're elves_'! You have been on edge and suspicious from the very start, and there is absolutely no basis for it now. Not after what we have both seen. If we are not careful, we could _lose _the support of these people, and I am not willing to risk that because of your _paranoia_. Surely you yourself know how childish you sound!"

The final thread of composure snapped. Hatred, anger, rushed through every vein and flushed her face. His expression was imploring and frustrated, pleading with her to see reason and think, but all she could see through the red haze was the insult, the condescension, the face of another enemy. "If you like these people so much," she snarled, all beauty gone in these few seconds to be replaced with fury, "then _you become one of them_! I am not stopping you! Go!" She flung one hand back toward the door. "Go tell them _you _want to be their lapdog; see how that works out for you!"

Regal spread his arms, now very openly exasperated. "_What _is your problem with these people?" he demanded. "They have done _nothing _but help you and treat you well since we arrived. Why are you so against every effort they have made to reach out to you!?"

"Because I'm not an elf!"

Her voice had risen to a high-pitched, agonized shout—a cry that hung in the air and echoed off the walls. She had begun to face away from him, but in spinning back around her skirt had caught the side of some sort of wooden basin on the table, and it had gone clattering to the floor, spilling and scattering bread around their feet. Her shoulders rose and fell in heavy, angry breaths as crumbs and dust alike settled around them. The sting of exhausted tears had risen behind her eyes, but her body had not enough energy even to make them fall.

"….I am not an elf," she repeated in a deadly, gravelly calm after a moment of silence. "That was made _very _clear to me. A long time ago."

Without waiting for an answer, she moved to the door and opened it just enough to permit her slight frame through before slamming it quite securely shut behind her. She didn't know where she was going, as she staggered out into the now-grey light of threatening rain. She didn't care. Just…away…

Inside, a stunned nobleman rested his hand against his mouth and leaned heavily back upon the wall.

* * *

><p>Can you hear the crickets chirp? Aaaawwwkwaaaard.<p>

Raine: Dear Martel. x.x

Heee. Your first fight. So kwuuuutttee.

Raine: Dear...Holy...Martel. I don't even...what _was _that?

That, my dear, was you and Regal on COMPLETELY different wavelengths, coming from COMPLETELY different places, and you being in no emotional state to deal with it. In short, it was awesome. I have been waiting to write that scene since I started this fiction, and now...NOW I HAVE DONE IT. MUAHAHAHA.

Raine: _Kill me_.


	14. Chapter 14

MAHAHAHA. This. This is something I have wanted to write for a VERY long time. Yes, Colette. It has been scratching at my mind for a while, and I am so super happy it's done now. ^-^ You get your own special shout out for being my beta reader, even if no one knows who you are. xD

Raine: ...None of those comments or suggestions made it any better, as far as I'm concerned.

Raine, the only thing that would make it better for you is if I uploaded a chapter about Kenshin and started ignoring you.

Raine: Good idea-do that.

Maybe later. Right now, it's time to post the best thing everrrr. Hee!

* * *

><p><em>Because I'm not an elf!<em>

Her voice echoed in his mind as much as the empty room as he stood, dumbfounded. Stalled. Minutes passed like hours in the loaded silence that followed in the wake of Raine's startling outburst—and subsequent departure. Regal found himself at a loss, almost unable to think; unable to hear anything but those final words.

_I am not an elf. That was made very clear to me…a long time ago._

…That had been far from what he had expected. He had not originally intended to call her out on her strange behavior, but it had baffled him. She had always been closed off, mysterious, having her secrets and keeping tight rein over them, but giving such a strong appearance. Even after he had abandoned calm diplomacy to challenge the mindset she had seemed so blindly, so ignorantly to have crafted for herself; even after he had given into frustration and asked his desperate questions, responding to her own defensive stance, he had never anticipated her very sharp, very poignant reply.

…What had he done?

Regal closed his eyes at last as his hand slid up from his mouth to spread across his face. He released into his palm a breath held in an attempt to ground himself again; he could hear his own pulse quick and loud with irritation and exasperation, and now bewilderment, and detangling himself from it was no small task. In the span of ten minutes, the actions of one normally reserved and level-headed—if intimidating—young woman had created for him a tropical hurricane of emotional action and reaction, peaking in raised voices and foul moods and ending in uncertainty, surprise, and his own horror at himself for what now seemed heartless ignorance. He needed to recover his sense. As he took two more slow and deliberate breaths, he curled his fingers again into a loose fist against his mouth and reopened his eyes.

He stared at the wall across the room without seeing anything—not really. He had glimpsed something, something startling and inexplicable; something he couldn't articulate that reminded him of the night they had first spoken in Palmacosta. Rubbing his hand over his mouth, he allowed his gaze to drift toward the floor where bread and crumbs still lay scattered, casualties of the shouting match he had never meant to incite.

_I'm not an elf…_

Inwardly, he cursed himself and the circumstances, but he pushed himself up and away from the wall to follow her. In all probability she was standing just outside, or at the least nearby. She clearly had no interest in company of any kind, and she certainly was not going to seek refuge among their benefactors. It had only been a few minutes; surely he would catch her before she retreated into her solitude both literally and figuratively. A true dialogue had been opened, and he didn't want time to let her close it again—but he also wanted very much to make certain she was alright.

"…Raine," he began, as he opened the door, in a tone he often used to appease disgruntled business partners or negotiate tricky matters of court. He stopped short, though, when all he saw was empty space and a few drops of rain beginning to fall from a darkening sky. Regal blinked and stood there in the doorway for a moment, taken further off his guard by the evidently unpredictable woman. She had…vanished.

A frown settled on his face. He scanned every inch of the area readily visible from this vantage point, expecting—hoping—to at least see her en route to wherever it was she was going, but there were only trees, grass, sand, and clouds in every feasible direction. "What in Martel's name…" Feeling at a loss, as he had been for some time now, the man scratched idly at the back of his neck. Too many questions ran through his mind—where had she gone, why was she running away, and how in the _world_ had she disappeared so completely, so quickly? He brought his hand around again to press its fingertips against his closing eyes. Not to use a favorite expression of the Professor herself, some part of him mused, but… "Honestly."

As he pulled the door closed gently behind him—he _had _to find her, after all—he jumped despite himself at a loud, sudden _crack _of thunder; his gaze snapped first toward the side, reflex recalling to his mind the image of the falling mast. But of course they weren't on a ship anymore, and he shook the vision away to instead look upward…just in time for his face to be doused in the downpour which had been slow to start, but would now wait no longer. Within seconds, hair and clothing alike clung to the unsuspecting man's skin as he stood on the ground he could feel melting beneath him with a flattened expression. There was no end to the day's surprises.

It was rather embarrassing, he thought in that hint of irritation: a seaman such as himself should have seen the storm coming. The sky, like his companion, had been overcast all day. Every sign had been there, but in light of trying to navigate Raine's perplexing mood, he had paid no attention at all. The clouds gathered over her composure had taken precedence—and he still had not been sufficiently prepared for _either_. The sigh swirling in his chest did not escape, but the sentiment, he had no doubt, was clear on his face.

Regal stepped backward, closer to the door, in order to gain at least a little shelter from the pouring rain as he peered out over the island again with traces of a grimace. He had to make this right. At the least, he had to bring her back; it was storming, and she was out in it. She could easily hurt herself; make herself ill; get lost. He was not about to take any of those risks. Guilt and concern alike gnawing at him, he looked over his shoulder at the little house, dry and warm with a table laden with still-untouched foods. If he could just get her to _eat…_ With a shake of his head, he did re-enter the building, but he ignored the table and instead crossed to a stand near the window where he had left the wrap from that morning. He couldn't carry anything without it getting soaked; hopefully, he would be able to convince her _to_ come back.

Grabbing the cloth and flinching slightly at another flash of lightning and near-immediate crack, he slipped back through the door and closed it tightly. The rain was falling harder now, though he spared an instant to thank Martel that the sky was not nearly as dark and imposing as it had been during the gale that had brought them here. It was a storm, yes, and it was dangerous to be out in it, but at least no one need fear drowning today.

The rain was cold and stung his hands and face as he smoothed hair out of his eyes and squinted into the endless grey-white sheets of water. As he hugged the wrap close to keep it as dry as possible for when he _did _find her, he looked down at it for a moment. It wouldn't be much in the end, he knew, but at least it might be something. She was going to be freezing, he was quite sure. He had only just started out and the slightest shiver was already creeping into his limbs. The quicker he tracked her down…

Regal spared just one fleeting glance toward the rest of the village, turning almost immediately away. If there was one place he did know she _wouldn't _be, it was among the elves. Another wince contorted his face briefly as he heard her angry shout in his mind again. …He should not have pushed her. A silent apology was offered, and he set off toward the woods they had spent time exploring that morning—only hoping, of course, that she had indeed fled there.

The weather did not make his search any easier. He tried at first to discern footprints along the ground, but even the few that he could just make out despite the softening of the ground were unhelpful. He knew Raine was barefoot, but so, as far as he had been able to tell, were all of the elven women in the village. He couldn't pick out any direction at all for some time, but he stubbornly pressed forward into the brush and trees, calling her name every so often. Thankfully, there was still time before evening fell; if night crept in before he had come upon her, she would never find her way back, and he would never find her.

Some time passed with no real progress, and in the solitude of the mission that with every passing moment frustrated and concerned him more, he was left to his own thoughts. Thoughts that turned not only to _finding_ her, but to…her. Palmacosta rose to his mind, and he recalled the way she had held herself.

Since making her acquaintance the first time two years past, he had always known her to be exceedingly composed—some, perhaps including him, might even go so far as to call her stiff. Of course, he liked to believe himself more observant than the average member of their ragtag troupe, and he had known there was more to her than just that. He had not been there to witness the full extent of her encounter with Virginia on Exire, but he had seen the aftermath, and no one in their group could ever deny the effect it had had on her. Yet she was still _The Professor._ Even when upset, she always appeared to desire to handle it herself—and be more than capable of coping. He had always considered her strong, if a little sad or abrasive, lonely.

Regal paused long enough to call her name again and listen. No answer came, and he continued on through the mud and foliage that all gave off a dull grey glow. Lightning flashed, blinding him for an instant only to deafen him with the resulting thunder. With the glaring light, an image rose to his mind of her trembling form, pressed into a corner with the look of mad terror the night their ship had fallen. He grimaced; hopefully, this storm was not reminding her of that close call as well. She had to be here somewhere…

He stopped in his tracks so abruptly that he was lucky not to finally drop right into the mud that had been trying to pull him down from the start. Somewhere nearby, he had heard something that was neither rolling thunder nor pouring rain, and he whipped his head around to find the source of the noise. Though he had hoped, in a way, for what he saw…he had not expected exactly _what _he saw. Her outburst had caught him off-guard, and he knew she was hurting-but even now, with this extra little insight, with the revelation she had unintentionally given, he could not have imagined the extent. Something still hadn't hit home.

Until now.

Several yards away, a woman soaked to the bone was braced by one hand against a thick tree, her sopping dress sticking to every line and curve of her body. She had no idea he was there, and he couldn't help but watch her, just for a moment. In the brief light of another bolt of lightning, he could see the hem of that dress caught in the brush at her feet—but that was not what caught his eye and held his gaze. Regal stared, everything fading for a moment. Everything, that was, except for the scene before him.

Raine tore fruitlessly and desperately at her skirt to free it, her whole body shuddering and movements clumsy. She fell against the trunk of her support, still caught, leaning on her forearm now. Hair clung to her face as the rain continued to track lines across her cheek, down her jaw. Between flashes, though, he stared at that face, and a block of ice formed in his gut. He could see her expression. He could hear, now that he had stopped moving, the sounds she made. And it made his blood run cold.

There was the epitome of strength and composure before him, _sobbing_. Her teeth were clenched and bared in agony, brokenness, as she strained to no avail against the brush holding her there. Everything hit him at once as he watched her bawl like a child, utterly exhausted, without anyone to be strong for; without anything _left _to hold herself together. He recognized the look on her face; he had worn it after Alicia's death. But set against those features, so often stony and cold, it was almost frightening. Her frantic breaths, adrenaline-fueled movements—her desperation and raw, uncensored _pain—_formed the final piece of realization.

He, like everyone who knew her, had fallen into a trap. How easy it had been, even while admitting to himself that she was not _invincible_, to take her strong façade and flawless mask of indifference for granted. Rational to a fault, he had privately considered her; not unfeeling, like some accused, but capable and independent. And all the while, as her closest friends and family continued leaning on her as their pillar of strength, _this_ side of her had lurked in the shadows. She had lived a life that would have driven the best and bravest of men to madness, yet she never _appeared _a tragedy. But standing there now, giving up the endeavor of freeing her dress and sinking into herself as her nails dug into the bark of the tree again, she was proving them wrong—her brother, her friends, and herself.

For fourteen years, this woman had been her young brother's sole caretaker. Raising him from infancy had made her his foundation and support, a role which made it absolutely necessary to lock herself away. Born in Heimdall, a village scorning her kind; mistreated and cast out; abandoned as a child with no idea why; forced to keep her nature secret for the sake of Genis' safety; providing for the boy, for an _infant_, well before her own adolescence; running every time suspicion was raised; hated and feared through no fault of her own; having no one in whom she could confide, but making her own way; having hope dangled before her and snatched away… Another flash made the scar upon her shoulder glow for an instant, tightening the knot in his throat. Everything…made sense. Ghastly, heart-wrenching sense.

It wasn't _just the elves. _It wasn't _just the storm. _It wasn't _just Altamira_ or _just her parents _or _just her brother_. It wasn't _just _anything. The pain she felt, had felt since her ill-fated birth, was very real—and it added up. It wasn't just anything. It was _everything_; everything piled up, with no time to recover. One thing after another coming at her: an assault in Altamira followed closely by the separation from her only family, followed _immediately _by a near-death experience, only to find herself immersed in a world that, as far as she was concerned, had never wanted her.

He had been touched by the terror she had displayed aboard the ship, but not _jarred_. He had known of her phobia. It had made easy, logical sense. This was different. This was what had lurked beneath the surface during their conversation in Palmacosta. This was what she had so masterfully kept in check all these years, and what was revealed now only through intolerable physical stress. There was no doubt that she was strong, and that she was brilliant and composed and rational, but this was a side that was just as much a part of her. This was Raine Sage at her worst, most vulnerable, and in a way…her most _honest_.

How so very…very easy, indeed, to take her composure for granted. To take her for granted.

Without another thought to keeping the wrap protected at all, he let it fall to the muddy ground and strode forward with this epiphany unfolding before his mind's eye. She never heard his approach, face pressed desperately into the tree as though to vanish entirely. All he wanted…all she needed… Regal hesitated there only for a few seconds before he reached out with her name riding a soft, pained breath.

She lifted her head and snapped it around to stare at him with wild, glittering eyes bearing an almost insane fear and anger as hot as the lightning continuing to strike somewhere nearby. Raine tried at once to jerk away, but he did not let her. Not this time.

Immediately he caught her in both arms and tugged her against him. "Let go!" she snarled savagely. "_Get away from me_!" She fought, she flailed. She tried to hit him, to wrench herself free—but the more she fought, the tighter he held. He held one arm around her body and the other hand against the back of her head, pressing her face into his chest while he lowered his own and murmured fervently, even feverishly, to her.

"It's alright…it's alright…" He repeated these words over and over, holding her. Protecting her. They had assumed a similar position once before, in the lounge the night of the last storm. Rain pounding against them, thunder rolling—but this time he was not sheltering her from falling debris and embers. He was protecting her from the world. Protecting an innocent victim from the men in Altamira who had harmed her body and reminded her of the heavy burden she and Genis would always bear. Protecting that little eleven-year-old girl from the hatred of her mother's people. Protecting the vulnerable woman from her greatest fear. "Shh…"

Her struggles faded after just a brief instant, undoubtedly due in no small part to her fatigue, and she began to sag and sink. Rather than holding her on her feet, Regal went down with her gently, easing to his knees without relaxing his grip at all. Her hands were at his shoulders, clenched into fists that each clung to the fabric of his shirt; her face was still against his collarbone, and her body still shuddered. She made a few more feeble, pathetic attempts to pound against him, but he squeezed his eyes shut and drew his own hand closed, fingers threaded through and around her hair. "I'm here," he promised above the falling rain and between the bellowing rolls of thunder. He wanted to be absolutely sure she _heard him_.

"Raine, I am here… Nothing will happen to you. Nothing will ever happen to you again."

* * *

><p>Do you need a tissue? Because I think I do.<p>

Raine: ...I need a trashcan.

o_O Well that was rude. And ambiguous. Do you need a trashcan to throw up in? To dump the chapter in? To dump me in?

Raine: Yes.

Hurhur. Stupid healer...your butt is crushing me?

Raine: What even-now you're quoting animated children's movies?!

I couldn't help itttt!


	15. Chapter 15 (edited)

o.o ...I haven't updated since last August. T-T I'm such a bad fic writer!

Raine: And the thirty times I've said that didn't hit home because...?

You say so many abusive things to me that I've been tuning them out since MTMTE.

Raine: So why, for the love of Martel, do you keep dragging me here to talk to you in these pointless little chats we have?

Because I need some way to introduce and fade out from chapters. Also, I love you.

Raine: Shut up.

* * *

><p>He wasn't at all sure how long they had spent there, in the soggy mud and brush, when it finally occurred to him that the rain had stopped whipping at them. He had not once let go of her, but had instead taken to stroking her hair with one hand and brushing his thumb across her cheek, his own jaw against the top of her head. She had cried herself out at long last as he held her there against him, trembling and shuddering, and like the storm, she had mostly quieted now. Her shoulders rose and fell heavily, but she no longer sobbed. The only sounds came from their mingled breath, the dripping of the leaves overhead, and the occasional distant, rolling thunder.<p>

The sky had lightened considerably, though it remained dingy; patchy rays of grey light told him it was probably still only late morning at most. Though it felt like an eternity since they—or he—had risen that morning, only a scarce few hours had actually passed. They had already had….quite a day.

Carefully, Regal shifted to look down at the sopping white hair under his chin. He couldn't see her face, as it was still buried in his shirt, but he trailed his fingertips across the side of her head to tuck some of that hair away behind her ear and away from the jaw to which it clung. Before he drew his hand back to her chin, he rubbed a few strands between thumb and forefinger. One of the strongest women he'd ever met… But he did not consider her _weaker_ for this. He was, in fact, humbled—and perhaps even felt privileged to be seeing, now, this private part of her. But he knew well that the promise he had made to her was sincere. And he wanted very much to keep his word. Nothing… Nothing else would hurt her as long as he lived.

"Raine," he spoke softly after a stretch of silence, his lips so close to her head that he could feel her hair teasing them. His other hand smoothed the fabric of her dress against her back with a feather-light touch. He would not have been surprised, as still and silent as she had fallen, if she was actually asleep. He rather thought it would be a relief to both of them if she was. She was entirely exhausted—that much was painfully obvious. She was dead weight against him, and she drew deep, heavy breaths. And indeed, there came no reply at all. She didn't speak, didn't cough, didn't even twitch. If she hadn't _been_ breathing so heavily, one might never know she still breathed at all.

Regal closed his eyes for an instant and released his own quiet sigh. The first thing they needed…was to get somewhere dry. Moving slowly, carefully, he slid one arm around her back and placed the other at her waist for a moment. It took some time, but he managed to rise without jarring her too badly—as far as he could tell, anyway. He held her shoulders as he lowered himself back down a little bit, just enough to place his other arm behind her knees and lift her feet off the ground. There was no resistance beyond her bodyweight and the soaked cloth of her dress. Her face was still hidden by hair and his own shirt, but he looked down at her for a second. She was…so light, so _small_ in his arms. It was strange.

He shook his head and gently shifted his hold. The steps he took were light and slow, attentive; he felt a little stiff from kneeling so long in the mud, and the last thing he wanted, besides disturbing whatever state she was in, was to trip and send them both back to the hard ground. He spared a quick glance toward a soggy mass of dirt-streaked cloth as he passed it, but he would have to come back later, after Raine had been taken care of. …They both had to be a pretty sight. He felt a little guilty over the soiling of the elvish clothes—even more that he wouldn't really be able to explain the situation behind it all. Though, beyond that, they would both need to change into something dry. She was already weak; they didn't need to risk illness, too. He was chilled, and he knew she could hardly be better off. How exactly that would happen, of course, he was less certain.

It was with these weary musings that he finally found himself stepping out of the forest. He paused there at the edge of the trees to peer out toward the ocean and gingerly renew his hold on his silent burden. The sky out over the water was bright and clear. Only a few wispy, white tufts remained as evidence of the storm. Yet when he cast a glance over his shoulder toward the woods, he could see a retreating wall of grey vanishing over the canopy. Every once in a while, one little rumble of thunder made its way back to them.

"Anden! Eadu sande ne val!"

Startled by the abruptness of the call after the heavy, loaded silence from the forest, Regal whipped his head around toward it. He immediately flinched when he realized his surprise had traveled to his hands and tightened his grip around Raine. Quickly, he let up a bit and cast a half-wary, half-apologetic glance her way—but if she had felt it, there was no sign at all. He released an unwittingly held breath and looked back up just as the young elven girl reached him from across the wet sand.

She gazed up at him, wide-eyed, her mouth drawn into a fretful little pucker, and laid both of her small hands against the forearm supporting Raine. "Theol? Daera vi… Mm…" Keeping one hand to the helpless man's arm, she twisted and used the other to reach out back behind her, where he could see the other two familiar girls scampering about. A shout from her was all it took to get the others' attention (and cause him to flick his eyes back toward the woman in his arms despite himself); they stopped all motion and stared for a moment, reminding Regal of startled deer, before starting to trot closer. The one nearest him diverted them, however, with a wave of her hand and what he presumed to be instructions by the way they both nodded and flew off dutifully back toward the village. Only when they had gone did the spokesgirl turn back to him. Not for the first time, he came out of the scene looking and feeling rather bewildered when their eyes met again.

Luckily for him, the child didn't appear to require anything from him. Or perhaps she simply knew he wouldn't be able to give her anything even if she asked. Martel, for all he knew, she had asked him a string of questions already—but whatever the case, she patted his arm and beckoned him along, and even had he wanted to resist he doubted it would do much good. He didn't, though, and quite willingly followed after her, particularly when it became clear that their intended destination was the little house where everything had begun. Good. That was good. A safe place and an opportunity for everyone to gather their wits.

Their escort got a bit ahead of him at first, flitting about like a nervous hen while Regal chose his steps carefully on the shifting, clinging sand. When the three of them (could he really count Raine as a part of this trek? he mused vaguely) finally did reach the door, the little sprite ushered him through the door, across the main room, and into another, somewhat smaller room in which a low-set bed appeared to have already been turned down. The elf girl bent over and fussed a bit with the bedclothes for a few seconds, but soon enough she was stepping back with her arms stretched toward the bed and her sweetly worried eyes lifted toward him. He didn't particularly need to know much about the culture to understand what she was advising, and he gave her a nod. It was after he had gingerly deposited his lifeless companion on the bed that he found himself confused again. All in the flurry of twenty seconds, he had set Raine down, looked at their escort, turned to see the other two girls bustling in with arms around bundles, and summarily…shooed from the room after one of those bundles had been handed to him.

Regal stood there, blinking from the cloth in his hands to the single girl now standing outside the room with him, her back against the mostly-closed door. They regarded each other for a moment, she with the knuckles of one hand resting against her mouth, he looking both confused and, admittedly, concerned. He knew Raine wouldn't want to be alone with the elves, but he also knew without a doubt that they could and would take care of her, and more than likely all the better without him getting in the way. No, she would be alright. He, on the other hand, had a very…expectant observer.

The girl nodded at what he had been handed. "Athyl. Mm." She pinched her own sleeve and tugged at the cloth, then pointed almost timidly at him. "Athyl—en dru." As she came forward and reached for it, he recovered enough sense to actually look at the thing.

"…A change of clothes," he concluded aloud, and probably more to himself—not that it would matter either way. But she moved to take the garments from him, and when he felt her little hand on his sopping shirt, he couldn't help the surprise and, perhaps, embarrassment. It brought a weary smile to his face, though, and he lifted one hand in a gentle gesture of deterrence. He knew it to be of nothing but hospitable intent, but he would just as soon not be changed by a young lady, elf or not. "Thank you," he offered softly, slowly, trying to convey with his voice the meaning his words wouldn't have to her ears. "I'm alright." Regal shifted that hand to indicate the door to the bedroom. "Raine." That was what mattered most. She was what mattered most right now.

The girl retracted her own hand slowly, tilting her head a little at him. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door, behind which they could hear quiet, even tender murmurings between the other two. He gave her another smile, another nod, when she drew her eyes back to him, and somewhat to his surprise, she seemed to actually grasp his meaning. She broke into a pretty, knowing smile and dipped her head. "Aedla," she replied, and a moment later she had slipped into the other room and closed the door gently behind her.

Regal had become savvy enough about these people to know that any changing he was going to do should be done _quickly_; it was a lesson, in fact, that he had learned within the first day or two, when he had just about had _several _women walk in on him in a less than fully-clothed state. For this reason, he wasted no time putting himself in a corner out of view of any windows and peeling off the wet clothes—which was a wholly unpleasant experience but which found him rewarded quite nicely in the end with the feeling of soft, clean, _dry _fabric against his clammy skin. Without the flood of adrenaline and the distraction of movement, he shivered a little as he slipped into the tunic and tied it about his waist. He was tired, too, but that didn't quite hit him either until some time later, after he was dressed; after he had cleaned up the scattered bread and crumbs; after the girls, Raine's wet clothes and his own gathered into their arms, had shuffled out with kind and sympathetic smiles that held lingering traces of worry—after he was left alone in another ringing silence, and he felt free at last to sink down onto a floor cushion and relax several tensed muscles.

The next hours afforded him the chance to center himself again, but he almost felt them to be more of a blur than the frenzy and madness of the morning. He assumed—hoped—Raine to be very much asleep, and he had absolutely no intention of disturbing her. She was finally getting the rest for which her body and mind alike had been pleading desperately. But in the stillness, the silence, the solitude, he permitted his own mind to slip into a sort of vague meditation. He didn't think of anything in particular that he would later remember; though there was quite a bit to think _about_, he didn't know if they were things he should broach. Rather, perhaps, he didn't know if he could at the moment. After all, what he had to think on was her, and she had proven very definitively that there was more to her than he could presume to know or even guess. So he waited. He dozed here and there, he stretched once or twice with an ambling lap around the small room, but mostly he just…was.

The sun peeped out slowly, demurely, as the day wore on, shining all the brighter as though in apology for the tantrum of earlier; but just as it came, so it also slinked back into hiding as evening set in. It wasn't until there were faint, dusky shades of gold and red casting the room into sleepy warmth and shadow that, ironically, he found his stupor dissolving. He was just sitting there at the table, elbow upon the surface and mouth resting in his palm, with his unfocused gaze resting on the opposite wall, when something other than the lazy sound of crickets wove into, and ultimately dispelled, the trance of stalled thought. Perhaps it was because, subconsciously, it was the one sound he was anticipating: the quiet scrape of the bedroom door.

Though time had rather apparently been moving forward, he felt rather as though he had only now rejoined its flow as he sat up and looked toward the door creeping open. Regal did get to his feet, but he held his ground as he watched a small form move, silently, sluggishly, into the dim sunset glow. He couldn't really make out her face yet, but her posture was almost…defeated. She didn't utter a single word, but just stood there for a moment, perhaps even leaning heavily on the doorframe. She was wearing a different, simpler dress now, but it clung to every movement—not harshly, like the drenched cloth from before, but gently and flexibly, outlining her weary steps when she finally ventured to leave the sturdy support of the doorway. She passed through a patch of fading light, and he caught a glimpse of dull, averted eyes as she drifted like a phantom along the far wall. He kept his own still silence, though, just watching. Her feet barely left the floor as she walked, and he found the barest frown settling on his forehead. Still so exhausted… Anyone would be, he knew. But as she finally came to a rest beside a little shelf across the room from him, and subsequently sank down onto it and against the wall behind it, something else presented itself to the void.

They had to talk. They both knew it. There was a great deal, even more than before, to talk about. But this would not be an echo of the morning.

"Raine." He spoke very softly, standing just where he had been and making no move toward the woman whose face was mostly in shadow. She had one hand resting, forgotten, in her lap; it twitched ever so slightly at his voice, but she did nothing else. He waited a beat before continuing gently. "Are you hurt?"

Regal hardly blinked as he watched her. For a moment, he thought she would just continue to ignore him. She still didn't turn her head toward him, but his eye caught the vague, even weak shake. That was something, and despite how _little _a something, he couldn't help being glad for it. She was present; she was at least somewhat responsive. He dropped his gaze from her for a few seconds. "…You slept?" he asked at length, still in nothing more substantial than a murmur.

From her spot, after another pause, her head inclined a time or two vaguely. This time, though, he saw her lips part, and in a voice distant and faint, heard her add, "Yes."

It was a relief, he had to admit, and he allowed his own head to nod gently. Another silence stretched between them, but he wasn't willing to leave it here; he couldn't, but most importantly, _she _couldn't. Slowly, Regal crossed toward her with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He stopped on the other side of the shelf and leaned sideways on the wall against one arm, facing her. Even his movements hadn't drawn her eyes, but he watched her profile as closely as he could. "…Raine," he repeated at last, speaking even more quietly now that they were closer. "I'm sorry."

For the first time, she showed something of a reaction. Raine lifted her head very slightly and turned it, just as little, in his direction. "…For what?" she mumbled in that dull, dreary, catching voice. Then, without giving any opportunity for him to reply, "Forget it."

He shook his head. "No." He paused to glance out across the room, then returned his eyes to the woman whom, only hours before, he had seen coming quite unraveled. It was not an image he had forgotten, nor one he easily could have, even had he tried. "I should not have pushed you as I did. And it was not my intention to hurt you. I never imagined…" Regal trailed off, uncertain of his own words.

"You couldn't have."

"I should have," he argued softly. "Rather… I should have listened to you."

"…Does it matter?" she asked, barely audible and so painfully defeated.

"It does. …I have always respected you, Raine. What happened this morning was nothing I had ever expected, nor intended. And now, I am hoping…" He leaned his head forward a little, "I may set things right."

He let his words hang there in the darkening room. When she made no immediate response, he glanced over toward the barely-visible table, still spread with their untouched fare, and made a quiet decision. The bread, even what had been spared the floor, would be no good after sitting out all day, but he remembered seeing fruit earlier, and that would have kept fine. It was hardly enough to fill a person, but anything at all, at this point, would help. So, he left her side to crouch and scan the table until he could ease an apple from a basket of other assorted fruits (some of which he couldn't say he even recognized); rising back to his full height, he returned just as quietly to the shelf. This time, though, he stood before her and held out the offering. He didn't even speak, and he wasn't at all certain she could make out his features any better than he could hers, but he looked down at her steadily. And even if she couldn't see his expression, after several long moments, he was rewarded when she lifted first her head, then one hand to accept the apple into a lackluster grip of her own. She drew it into her lap and looked down at it—but as he backed off, admittedly feeling already some small victory in getting any level of consent, she surprised him further by breaking the silence herself.

"It's a cruel irony, isn't it? Is it that I can't be rid of them, or that they, no matter how hard they tried, how very determined they were, simply can't be rid of me? Heh… This. This was what _I_…never imagined."

Regal had moved back to his place against the wall on the other side of the shelf, but he looked at her as she murmured her most extensive and coherent words yet. His brow creased, though, at those words. "Elves?" he asked.

Her silhouetted shoulders twitched. "Elves. Humans aren't exactly impressive…but elves. I was chased out of Heimdall as a child, only to return twelve years later and have them spit right in my face, not once, but _twice _more. I've known from the time I could talk that I had no place among them. They made very certain of that." Raine withdrew a little into herself, her right hand coming to rub at the same shoulder in what he knew to be the manifestation of another memory. "No place," she repeated faintly.

"…Heimdall… Sybak… Altamira… The world has…been exceedingly cruel to you," he observed, closing his eyes briefly.

"Genis was right. 'Humans and elves. Neither side wants us.' And I hate you both."

His expression drew more with pain on her behalf. He knew what she meant; her "you" was not him, not any of their companions. It was the society of which he himself could not help but be ashamed to be a part. "Raine…"

But she went on, staring, as far as he could tell, straight ahead. "But we chose humans. Despite what you've done, what you've said, _I _chose humans—and would choose them again. Because, you see, there is a difference between human cruelty and that of elves. You both hate us; you both wish we would disappear. But the elves…aren't _afraid _of us. We simply aren't _good enough. _I am not good enough," she concluded, a little hoarsely. Her voice took on a bitter, if still trampled, mirthless note of humor. "At least Sybak wanted me, yes? I tried for ten years—_ten years—_to be what Heimdall wanted me to be. But all they ever wanted me to be was gone. And now here I am, all over again." She was quiet for several seconds. Then, raising the apple to rest it against her lips, she spoke into its skin. "I hate this place."

He drew a breath and faced the room again, rubbing his jaw absently. "I know."

"And I can't even say 'I want to go home.' No matter where we went, no matter what we found, no matter how the world has changed and continues to change, there is no place—there just isn't. All I have, or had, was Genis. And I will never see him again."

Regal lowered his head and gave it a slow, unsettled shake as this trickled down over him. …Was that part of it? Her brother? He had his company, Altamira, but all of that would do just as well without him in the end. George and Presea were there to guide the Lezareno, and he had been detached from the world for sixteen years. He didn't really _have _that much to lose, but Raine—well, she had Genis, and she _only _had Genis, because everyone and everything else had pushed her away and told her, from the day she was born, that she was filth.

He glanced at her. All of this, he knew, was what made it impossible for her to see this island as anything more than another enemy; after all, she had had almost nothing _but _enemies in her life. It had just never set in before. He _hadn't _seen her, never really; only her mask. Only what she wanted seen. But… He shifted his eyes back toward her. Things were different—could be different—now, here. He could, and would, never deny how very glad he was to be having this discussion with her. It was painful, but it was worse to think they she had never been able to have it before.

"…I truly am sorry. And I can never change…what you have been through; nor would it do any good to say that I wish I could. You are worried about your brother, and you are angry and frightened, and you have reacted as anyone would. And I know this is hard for you—harder than I could presume to understand. I know that." He pushed off the wall to turn and settle his shoulder against it again, watching her. "But Raine…"

The duke lowered his voice a little more. He intended to make it very clear that this was not another lecture, nor an admonition of any kind. He spoke gently. He wanted to touch her, but he stayed his own hand out of consideration of the further discomfort it might cause. "This is not Heimdall. I am not Sybak, or those men in Altamira… And you are not of Cruxis, or a Desian, or even a Renegade. _You _have not intrinsically failed in anything, and the stigma with which you have lived can only follow you into the company of those who would keep it chained to you. It is their fault, not yours, and these people—_these elves_—adore you, just for who you are." A small smile formed. "Or they will, as those who have the privilege to know you must, if you will only give them a chance. I don't ask you be comfortable at once. I know better now. I only ask that you lower that Force Field of yours just long enough to take them on _their _terms as people, not as a race. But until you can, you are _not _alone. Genis will be alright. He has Lloyd and Colette, and Palmacosta will come to revere him as the young man you raised him to be. I can promise you that. And I can promise you that, whatever you have seen and experienced out there," he pointed toward the window, the protective instinct rising, giving weight to his words, "none of that will ever touch you again. We are both here, and we are alright, and we will make this work."

Again, he let his words stand, and she fell quiet, her hands fiddling distractedly with the fruit in her lap. There was another stretch of silence between them, but his smile twitched a little when he saw her lift the apple sluggishly to set it against her lips. She had yet to start eating, but something else drew his attention toward the front door, and he straightened to face it just as it cracked open a little to permit a sweet, youthful face to peek in.

"Thaelan?" the girl asked in a hushed voice. Her eyes seemed to light upon both of them there, though, and she slipped into the room with a small flame, for light, cupped…in…her palm.

Regal blinked, startled—though he shouldn't have been, he supposed. They were elves, after all; magical abilities came with the blood. He smiled for her, too, and he received a soft one in return. The child looked about, frowned briefly, then rummaged around in a little bag over her shoulder with her free hand to draw out several candles. These she promptly began to settle around the room, evidently according to some plan, and light with the flame dancing at her fingers. The warm glow of firelight replaced the very last shreds of twilight glow, and though he couldn't help but blink in the new light source, he actually found it rather pleasant. He did, however, cast a glance toward Raine.

The woman followed the movements of their new visitor with her eyes, which looked as weary and dull as her voice and posture had suggested. The apple had been lowered back to her lap and was held still in one hand, while the other was tucked around her body. She still leaned against the wall, though, still and silent. Wary. As tense as her abused muscles could manage.

"Vedi… So tor alae tanyl." The girl had evidently finished placing the candles and found a new manner of employment. When he let his eyes follow the voice again, he watched this slight thing inching toward Raine with something clutched between both hands. The little face was drawn with concern and inquiry, but despite Raine's unblinking stare, she approached very determinedly and held out what looked, to the quietly observing man, like a cup of sorts with steam riding from it. "Eadalyn," the elf murmured, gazing up at the older woman.

The object of such attention did not appear to have much energy (nor much room) to draw back, but she did sit there very still for a moment, just staring. Even Regal found himself holding his breath and watching closing, until his companion flicked her gaze quickly toward him. He was very careful to keep his expression open and neutral this time, though.

Finally, cautiously, Raine extended her left hand to take the cup. The girl gave a slightly strained smile and nodded at her. "Syn," she murmured encouragingly. "Eadalyn toma fel syn. Mm?"

Raine sniffed the contents of the cup and closed her eyes for a few seconds. When she opened them again, she gave a vague, ever-resigned nod. "Thank…" She stopped, pursed her lips, and closed her eyes once more. "…F…Fendan."

At this, the child brightened considerably. Her smile became warmer, and she nodded as well as she stepped back. "Sen gael andu min fil. Solae veld iman." She touched her fingertips to her chest and bowed her head again. Offering another smile to Regal, and touching his hand familiarly on the way by, she almost tiptoed from the cottage and (with one final, glittering, beaming glance) closed the door softly behind her.

Regal followed her with his eyes, and he couldn't help but smile to himself, but he looked back over his shoulder toward his companion. She sat there, staring down distantly into whatever was in that cup of hers. He let her stay there, let the silence play, but a question finally teased his chest—and carefully, so as to avoid startling or disturbing her, he came back to that little shelf. Instead of a place beside it, he leaned on the wood itself, inches from where she sat, and paused just one moment more.

"…Will you teach me?"

She lifted her head to blink at him, her face gaunt in the flickering candlelight. It took a stretch before she seemed to understand. "…To speak elvish?" she mumbled on the slightest frown of confusion. At his gentle nod, she turned her face away and let her head fall back against the wall with a gentle _thud_. "Why? You have your own personal interpreter."

But he stood his ground. "You were correct this morning. I could not possibly understand. …But I would like to." He rested one palm flat against the top of the shelf, keeping his voice low and his eyes on her.

_I am here_, he had said—and so he was and would be. She was not alone, and he wanted to learn about this woman. They were no longer polite colleagues, settled into an easy distance. In the shock of the rug pulled completely from beneath them, they would need each other. She was right: they probably wouldn't ever leave this island, but it would be okay. They still had the camaraderie of sharing the situation, and perhaps they could both learn from one another. All they could do was go forward.

* * *

><p>I think this -might- be my longest chapter ever. I'm just hoping it all flows decently. I would ask a friend to beta, but the one who does that for me is currently up to her eyes in prep for her friend's wedding, so I don't think she'd much appreciate that.<p>

Raine: That never stops you from doing anything else.

Only to you, sweetiepants. ANYHOW. I apologize to all readers; you are all my beta readers. xD Just don't flame me. It's been nine months since my last chapter, and I really like how a lot of this turned out.

Raine: You probably should warn people before they read the chapter.

Silly Raine. Fine print goes at the bottom, don't you know that?

Raine: So you've basically just admitted that these are things you don't want them to know at all. So...why include this?

Because I needed something to say?

Raine: You are such an idiot.

But I am your idiot.


	16. Chapter 16

As promised, here is the new chapter I have been working on! I know that oneshot didn't really fill the void, but hopefully this will make up for the past few weeks of comm silence.

Raine: ...Did you just use a term you picked up...

From _Star Trek: Voyager_? Yes. Yes I did. But I am _quite _sure it's used outside of that particular nerd-dom.

Raine: Oh, I'm sure it is. But that doesn't change the fact that you only know it because of a twenty-year-old television program with which you have been obsessed since you were seven years old.

...What the heck does any of this have to do with a new chapter?

Raine: Clearly you have it on your mind.

...Yeah, I've been thinking some about it lately... So? Oh-

Raine: So go write for that!

/facepalm. Yeah. Saw that coming a little too late.

* * *

><p>Every day became a little bit easier. It was taking time, and he knew it would take even more, but there was progress being made, and that was all anyone could hope for. Healing and acceptance were long, difficult processes; he would continue moving forward at her side, at her pace, as long as it took. Still, it was nice to see a sort of…routine developing. They were all settling into one another, little by (sometimes painfully, but always progressing) little.<p>

He wasn't certain if she had made any mention to the elves of her experience in their sister village regarding the reasons why she had been so hostile and continued to be somewhat standoffish; knowing what he did of her propensity toward avoiding any explanation of herself, he somehow doubted it. Regardless, though, it didn't seem to matter. They had become…respectful? They may not have understood, but they treated her with such an openness, never pushy, never presumptuous. It was clear that they wanted to be close, but they were, as a people, incredibly perceptive and accommodating. It was a lovely sight when he could watch Raine actually sitting more or less among them, albeit still with some distance, and being subjected to so many questions. Children always seemed to be running up to the two of them with something they wanted to share or show; daily life always included them now, as they learned how to live off of this island as their hosts had for millennia. It truly was a remarkable experience despite the underlying misfortune.

Raine had agreed to teach him elvish, a fact that had evidently pleased their benefactors greatly; his education in the language appeared to have become a communal pet project. Not only did he have her instruction, but sometimes he would find himself with an audience there to giggle at his appalling pronunciation and tutor him along with comical gestures for emphasis. And then there were the people who would just stop him at random, point to an object, and demand that he repeat the word like a small child just learning his sounds. The most interesting part of it, however, was that many of them seemed eager to learn _his _language at the same time. Those drills often ended as an exchange of sorts, wherein his solicitor would stare at him until he spoke the human word for whatever it was. Though, he had to admit that everyone here was much better at picking up his tongue than he was theirs. They already had a basic grasp of the grammatical structure and a decent vocabulary, and he still struggled to produce the right _sounds_. Several times he had seen traces of a buried smile playing at his mentor's lips.

But that was alright; it was an expression he hadn't seen her wear since their arrival, and if he could make Raine Sage release that elusive smile, who was he to complain? Once or twice he had even been tempted to make an intentional mistake just to see if he couldn't break through her quiet inhibitions. He had been unsuccessful thus far, but he was confident.

There was something else, though; something quiet. There was a resistance—not quite as much from the elves, now, but it was something he noticed in passing a few times and couldn't name. He had decided to leave it alone for now, of course; there was enough for her to work through already at the moment.

It was early morning, and he had developed a habit, within the first few weeks, of taking a walk about the island. It had started as an endeavor to learn the layout and avoid getting lost, and Raine often joined him. They were together much of the time, actually, as they continued to navigate a more figurative landscape. Today, though, she had been gone before he had even arisen, and so he ambled along in peaceful solitude with the secondary mission of finding out where she had gone. They each respected the other's space when it was needed, but it never hurt to stay informed. She hadn't even said a word, after all.

"Eadlaaaaan!"

Regal only had an instant to blink and start turning around toward the voice before he was tackled and had two little arms thrown about his waist. Had he worse reflexes and balance, he might have been pushed over altogether. As it was, he had automatically braced one foot behind him and put an arm about the girl's shoulders to steady her, too. He blinked again, but after a beat he relaxed into a little smile to match the beaming face looking up at him.

"Amae," he greeted, releasing her. He had to pause to find the next words he wanted, but she seemed to notice the look of concentration he probably had on his face, and she just smiled encouragingly. "…_Good morning,_" he finally chuckled, and was rewarded with her laughter—no doubt at his expense, but a reward all the same.

She let go and took a tiny hop backward. "_Good morning, Eadlan_!" He still had no idea what his new name meant, nor why it had been given him, but Raine had received one, as well, and he was used to it by now. "Adlen tamynae, mm?" Amae waited a moment, then blinked right back at him when he didn't reply. "Ho…emm… Say it is…pretty sun-up." Smiling again, she pointed toward the horizon.

He followed her gaze and offered a nod. "_Yes. _It is very pretty. Speaking of…" Regal paused briefly as his own word choice hit him, but he shook it off and went on. "Do you know where Raine is this morning?"

"Althea?"

"That's right."

"Sume, yes! See before next to leda—to sea." She reached out and grabbed his hand, and before he knew what was happening, she was tugging him off toward the beach. There was very little formality or timidity in the elvish culture, at least as it existed here. It was still a little strange for him at times, but he supposed it was only natural; he had spent thirty-some-odd years (heavens, how old was he now?) surrounded on all sides by nothing _but _ceremony and etiquette—or in prison, surrounded by every violation of personal boundaries known to man without any of the good will or sweetness. Here, the most negative reaction he felt capable of having was simple bemusement. The three adolescent girls with whom they had been interacting from the start, at the very least, had made sure of that.

"…Eadlan? Vedi lana Althea amarindal?"

He drew his eyes down to the little culprit walking with him. Her head was tilted expectantly, and she had obviously just asked a question, but between his own musings and the pace of her words, he had absolutely no idea what it had been.

"Forgive me—ah…al thyn." He knew that particular phrase _very _well. "I didn't catch that."

Amae broke into another smile as she shook her head at him. "Eth-al-themin," she pronounced clearly and deliberately, returning bright eyes forward. "That is what you say to her. 'Eth al themin asand il fae.'"

"What does that mean?"

Either she didn't understand him, or she hadn't heard him—or she was deliberately ignoring him, which was a distinct possibility, given the hint of mischief he thought he could see in that face. "Will cause happy and…" She paused abruptly in her steps and made a gesture with one hand that almost looked like miming the swing of a hammer. The look she turned to him was clearly a request for help, though he was admittedly lost at first.

At length he hesitantly suggested, "Build?", but she shook her head adamantly.

"No, no… To, em…" She freed her other hand and locked her fingers together tightly. "When breaks, will…sem. Sem. What is Ivdran word of sem?"

"You mean, what do you do when something breaks…?"

"Sume! Yes, yes, when breaks." She started walking again, and he fell back into step with her.

Regal smiled slightly. "Ideally," he mused, "you fix it."

Both of her hands shot into the air with the excited and triumphant cry of, "Fix!" Her accent tinted the word, but he was a little jealous of how well she could pronounce even newly-learned vocabulary right from the start. Did that go back to his age, too?

"That's right. Ah, fix what, though?"

She turned her head to blink up at him. "Why Althea angers at you," she declared, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was taken aback, himself.

"Did…she say she was angry with me?" That was the first he'd heard of it. Surely, he hadn't done anything within the last day to upset her, and she had been acting perfectly normally before then. The only oddity had been the morning's disappearance, but he hadn't considered that it might be because she was upset with him.

"Mm-mm." Amae shook her head. "Althea says not much, you know well. Fee saw early she leave home. And you do not know where, because she says nothing. Not with her. It is more good when an si ea—man and woman—are together." Here she joined her hands again as though in demonstration. "If you tell her this words I give you, then Althea will be caused to stop her anger at you and will happy instead. But," she added in an apparent afterthought, "eth ved temanae sul copri…"

But he had slowed to a halt again, staring as the young lady drifted ahead several steps, mumbling incoherently to herself. His face was surprised, even stunned, and when she finally realized that he had fallen behind, she whirled to face him with her head tilted innocently. Martel… What…? "Amae," he began very slowly when she had ambled back to him curiously.

"Mm?"

"Can you tell me what those words mean?"

"Emm…" The girl put a finger to her lips and tapped them a couple of times. "Not simple to change to Ivdran… You—sit…tight. Okay? Okay… Em… I you—nono, I…pick? 'I pick you,' sume, 'with…forever to…'" She patted her hands together a few times, visibly searching for the word. "Tie…?"

"Bind?" he suggested quietly, feeling the confirmation of his suspicions trickle down over him.

"Ha! Yes, bind is good! So is, 'I pick you with forever to bind."

"Bind. As in…marry." Well, that explained a few things, didn't it? Regal shifted his weight, staring right through her blinking, uncomprehending face. He honestly had no idea what to say to that. He…and Raine…_involved_? "Ah…hah. Amae—I believe…you have the wrong impression…"

The light faded from her face. "…You are…" She tapped her hands together again, looking down at them briefly before returning those doey eyes to him. "You are near?"

"Do you mean close? Yes—I would say…" What would he say? Certainly they were closer now than they had been. They had gotten to know each other, as well as trust each other to some extent, at least. "We are…very good friends, but…" He felt like a schoolboy called out in front of the entire class to present a speech he had forgotten to write.

Amae looked positively crestfallen now. She paused, though, and then surprised him further by coming right up to him, planting her hands on her hips, and staring him straight in the eye despite the sizable gap in heights. "You share food."

"We eat together, yes."

"You use much light…em…damin—speaking."

"I suppose—"

"She eth trust. Trust you."

"I hope so."

"Very special to you."

"In…a way—"

"Eadlan…" Her expression softened again, and she lowered her voice a little. "Al avinedsan eth maur." With the glint back in her eye and a bounce back in her movements, Amae twirled around and took his hand. Once more, he was being tugged along by a chipper escort. While he was curious about her concluding words, another part of him was rather afraid to ask after what had just happened.

It wasn't a…_bad _notion—he was anything but offended at the suggestion, it was just—

"There! Next to leda, like I say."

Regal stopped in his tracks and train of thought when the elf girl tugged his sleeve and pointed forward to the beach, where he could see Raine, sitting with her back to them. She was alright, which was good, but there was something a little strange in her posture that gave him pause.

"Althea often looks sad."

He glanced over briefly, rubbing his jaw. He mightn't have said "sad," exactly, but he could only see her back. He certainly hoped she wasn't; that would have been worse, he thought, than if she really had been angry with him.

"Go speak. I must get clothings from rope."

Shaking his head at the innocent smile she gave him in parting, Regal continued on his way toward Raine. He had no intention of bringing with him _any _of the conversation a few moments past; as he got closer, he schooled his expression and thoughts alike and hooked his fingers together loosely behind his back. His steps were quiet, though he did do his best not to startle her and angled himself to arrive from beside rather than behind.

"Good morning," he greeted quietly. She had yet to move, just staring out toward the horizon as she had been, but her gaze finally shifted a little toward him briefly.

"Good morning."

"Trouble sleeping?"

She shook her head vaguely. "No, not particularly." Another glance up at him. "I hope I didn't wake you."

It was his turn to shake his head. "You did surprise me, though. Did something happen this morning? You aren't usually gone so early." He started to sit next to her, but a thought made him pause. With a half-teasing smile, he cocked one eyebrow at her. "You aren't upset with me, are you?"

Raine blinked. She turned her head completely this time to do more than just glance his way. "…Should I be? What have you done?"

He chuckled and lowered himself to the sand. "Nothing, I hope." At her expression, he waved it off and drew one knee up. As she turned back to the water, he caught the absent movement of one of her hands and peered curiously at the small stone she was working with her thumb. The smile faded again. She wasn't angry, but he wasn't so sure that meant she wasn't upset. The subtle tension that wove through her right side at his proximity was a good clue; he hadn't seen her do that in some time now.

"…Two months," she murmured at length. Her thumb paused on the smooth surface of the stone. "It's been two months today."

"Has it really…" He scratched his forearm gently and watched an ant weaving its way across the sand. Raine had been keeping track of the days much more closely than he had. Of course—that was it, wasn't it, the extra little resistance? She was moving forward and giving these people a chance, but if she was doing it with one hand still wrapped tightly around her life before… Eventually, she wouldn't be able to go any further.

It was a strange revelation. He had gotten used to being with these people, walking these shores, living this life—there was no changing it, and he had found enjoyment in it all. Despite knowing that she was still uncomfortable, he supposed he hadn't realized just how settled _he _had become. Two months gone already… He looked back over at her. "Are you alright?"

There was a quiet little sniff from her direction. "It would be pointless to be anything else."

"Perhaps. But that is not what I asked."

"I'm not sure what I expected. Or wanted." Raine held up her stone and looked it over. With her thumbnail she scratched gently at an imperfection. "But in any case…I suppose there really isn't much choice now."

He was quiet for a moment as he squinted out toward the tide some distance from them. It was a melancholy statement, and he felt the weight behind it. IBut, though it might have been a bit of reaching, he also heard an opportunity for something a little more optimistic.

"I don't think that's true," he replied at length. Regal let his eyes close and leaned back on one palm. "You are probably right: we cannot change our physical situation. What happened happened, and despite what many might think, we as people—half-elf, elf, or human—cannot control the world. We can influence circumstances and events, but only to a point. It can be difficult to swallow how very small we are from that standpoint."

"The idea of being powerless is not a comforting one."

His lips curved slightly. "Ah, but I did not say we were powerless. In fact, we have a great deal of control over our individual fates." Regal felt her look before he saw, but he met it calmly. "Acceptance is a choice that takes exceptional strength to make. We decide how we will react, and what we will do with that which we cannot change. It took over sixteen years to learn that lesson, myself. I think you're well on your way, though, if you'll let yourself."

"Am I?" Raine folded her legs beside her and curled her fingers about the stone against her thigh.

He watched her, his head tilted slightly. "I've seen you make enormous steps forward even in the comparatively short time we've been here." There was no formality in their conversation anymore, either, he realized detachedly. "And it took strength—is taking strength. You are not the same now as you were when we arrived, but I think perhaps you are trying to be. And that will accomplish nothing."

She lifted her free palm from the sand long enough to rub at her shoulder. "I didn't have a choice then, either," she mused warily. "It was a necessity."

"So make the choice."

Evidently he surprised them both with the words, but as she turned her head to blink at him, he just offered that same steady, little smile. She looked away again after a moment, and hair shifted into her face. His free hand lifted just a little, but the movement, whatever it might have become, was never realized as she used one finger to flick the strands away.

"Letting go of a lifetime isn't easy. …But I guess you know that better than anyone, don't you?"

He used the apparently restless hand to rub at his jaw idly. Was it strange that he was glad to be having this conversation? "It isn't," he agreed. "And I do. But that also means I know very well how much good it can do to stop fighting the current—" He paused. Perhaps there was a…better metaphor to give this particular woman. "Ah…"

Raine drew a deep breath through her nose and resumed rubbing the stone with her thumb. "It is a fascinating island," she admitted. "I just can't believe…it's really been two months. Everyone probably assumes us dead by now. They're all living their lives."

"And we ours," he reminded her gently.

She opened her fingers and let the stone sit on her palm. "And we ours," she echoed.

"Though I get the impression you haven't considered this 'living.' Am I wrong?"

"No… You're not. Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that this was only temporary, that we were visiting, and after a while I would be able to step away again with an interesting experience and nothing more. It made everything easier, somehow. …I can't hold onto that fiction anymore, though. It's exhausting to count down to something that will never actually happen." She sighed softly. "Foolishness."

Regal shook his head. "There are things I will miss about Altamira, the Lezareno, our friends… They are not gone, Raine; there is nothing wrong with keeping those memories alive. But they have to be memories, because those things and those people _have _moved on and _will _move on, in their own directions. We have to do the same."

She leaned heavily on her free hand again. "This is not the direction I had intended to take. That…seems to happen frequently. 'The best laid plans,' I suppose."

He glanced toward a cloud drifting by overhead. "You and I are both planners, I think. Unfortunately for us, not even we can account for every variable."

"Or any variable?" She looked over at him briefly, and he inclined his head.

"At times. But whether or not we planned this, it is the path we are on now, and it is a path whose destination we are free to shape, as I said before."

Her eyes closed. "…It's been a long time since the professor was the student," she mused after a stretch of silence. "I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that particular change. I need some manner of stability in my self-identification, after all."

He chuckled. "Don't worry, Professor. I think you still have much more to teach me."

"Althea! Eadlan! Come and eat food together with us, tamaaaa!"

Regal tilted his head back to look around Raine toward Amae, standing further up the beach with one hand clutching bundles of cloth and the other up in the air. "I believe we are being summoned." His smile softened a little as he looked back at her. "…I told you before, Raine, and I will say it again: we _will _make this work. You just have to make the choice." Carefully, he pushed to his feet and began ridding his pants of clinging grains of sand.

She stayed where she was for a few seconds more, peering through half-lidded eyes at the lazy waves. "Make the choice…" He watched, curiously, as her gaze shifted to the stone. Then, she pulled back her hand, closed her eyes with another deep breath, and threw it as hard as she could into the ocean. It surprised him, but at the same time, he felt an odd surge of pride for her, seeing the gesture for exactly what it meant.

Going into a crouch, he offered his hand to her just as Amae was skipping toward them from across the sand. "You have a life to live, my dear," he told her quietly, rising with her.

Her foot caught the edge of her hem, and had he not been there to steady her, she might have fallen back down. "…And I'm going to be wearing dresses for the rest of it," came a dry remark after she had righted herself. She shook her head and let go of his hand.

He chuckled again, though it was slightly sympathetic this time. "They are lovely, at least. Let's see…" Regal cupped his chin in one hand thoughtfully. "Al…venaea tum soni Martel davarend kura f…" He opened his eyes with a blink, something odd tickling the pit of his stomach at a sound that caught him wholly and completely off-guard.

Raine was standing there…_laughing_. It was quiet and muffled by the hand hiding her mouth, nothing like the carefree giggles and laughter of Amae and her friends, but it was laughter all the same. He had finally gotten a smile… It was a beautiful sight.

She was…a beautiful sight. And he was caught.

"What in goddess' name…" she breathed through her fingers. "I'm not sure a single word in there was pronounced correctly, and your accent is appalling, but… The _closest_ thing to what you said…translates roughly to the announcement that you are grateful to find Martel in your pants."

Er. He coughed, the trance effectively broken as he splayed a hand over his face. That had _not _been what he was going for. "Forgive me. That was, ah…not exactly what I meant." It was his turn to offer a soft, wary laugh. Though…was he really sorry? part of him had to wonder. That smile had been worth just about anything in the world.

"I certainly hope not." As Amae finally reached them, Raine gave him a bit of a sideways look. "…Yes, I suppose we do still have a lot to teach each other." Giving her head another gentle shake, she met the gaze he lifted toward her for a few seconds. Only for those seconds, though, before she turned and began to walk back toward the village. He watched her back despite himself, the embarrassment giving way back to thoughtfulness.

"_You did well. _Althea _is better. Come eat! _Come eat!" Brightly, Amae took his hand and tugged. He hesitated, though.

"…Amae," he murmured. "What was…the last thing you said to me in elvish, in Kinum, before you left before?"

She blinked at him and tilted her head. "Mm?" The girl rolled her eyes up to the sky, rocking back onto her heels. "What I say…? Em… You mean leda? Silly Eadlan, means sea! You know this."

"No, before that. 'Al eth…avi…'"

"Ho! 'Al avined san eth maur'?" When she looked at him again, it was with an almost eerily knowing smile. "I say, 'I think there is more than you know.'" She giggled and pulled again, and he had no choice but to follow.

* * *

><p>Kukukukuku.<p>

Raine: Ugh. Really? A chapter that had nothing to do with advancing this sick and twisted plot of yours? You wasted four thousand words on sentimentality?

Hardly! That right there is character and relationship building!

Raine: Is that what you call it?

Yes. And no one wants to hear what _you _call it, sasspot. Save the vulgarity for "In Another Life" (which, by the way, is due for an update as well).

Raine: Oh. Don't worry. I have plenty to say.

So we've noticed. Trust me.

Raine: W... "Sasspot"...?


	17. Chapter 17 (edited)

Here I am.

Raine: You have a true knack for stating the obvious, Maiya. Tell me, are you next going to declare that you are posting a new chapter?

...No...

Raine: -sigh- And yet she claims to be a writer. How can you hope to be a decent wordsmith if _that _is the best you can do with your introduction?

It helps when I have a good subject, or an _interesting _partner in conversation.

Raine: ...Are you actually going to start returning my insults?

Well, a girl's got to stand up for herself. Does this bother you, Professor?

Raine: What bothers me...is that you don't actually _mean _any of it. You still adore me, and that means I'm still your plaything. ...Goddess Martel, this is a depressing conversation. Just post your garbage, girl.

I win. XD

* * *

><p>Though it stung, Regal did his best to remain still as Raine tended the scratch on his arm. He felt like a scolded child, sheepishly keeping his gaze fixed on his lap, the grass he was sitting in—anywhere but at her. He wasn't sure what expression she was wearing, but exasperation seemed a distinct possibility. He could only imagine what she might be thinking; only he could make himself bleed trying to harvest <em>fruit<em>.

He hissed through his teeth at the damp cloth dabbed against the wound, his arm jerking a little. Unsurprisingly, the next thing he felt was a firm hand dragging his wrist back into place on her lap. "…I apologize," he offered. Finally, he ventured a somewhat cautious glance upward. The violet eyes he sought flicked sideways toward him through a veil of her hair. She didn't pause in her almost maternal attention, but she did eye him for a moment from her perch on the low stone. The look on her face made him uncertain whether he should laugh or cringe, but at last, when she rolled those eyes and shook her head, he couldn't help but chuckle.

"I still don't understand how you managed to hurt yourself," she informed him dryly. "So much for the grace of a martial artist, hm?"

"I tripped."

"Yes, and fell not only into a patch of thorns, but onto the blade you were using. You're probably lucky you didn't _impale _yourself—though by the way Fee was carrying on when she found me, one would think you had."

"Thankfully not. That would have been…problematic."

"For you or for me?" Raine paused and looked up again, one eyebrow arched in an expression he might even have gone so far as to call _catty_.

He lifted his free hand in a gesture of submission. "Alright," he mused. "You win."

She returned to her task with a light, off-handed, "I usually do."

"You also usually get the last word," he teased her, though his voice jumped slightly with another twinge.

"That's right."

Regal turned his head and gave it a shake, permitting himself another quiet, contented chuckle. When he sneaked a quick glance toward her, he noted the faint, subtle traces of a hiding smile. He was getting better at recognizing them, he knew—but they were also getting more frequent. Both of those developments pleased him more than they probably should have.

"Eadlan!"

Both heads lifted when a breathless Amae trotted up, Fee and Vin in tow with loose, disheveled hair trailing. The girls slowed to a halt, all sporting worried looks. Fee and Vin clasped each other's hands, though he could have sword the former was hiding just a little bit behind her friend. She looked rather guilty and upset with the knuckles of her free hand pressed to her mouth and eyes stretched wide.

"Are you okay?" Amae demanded. Then, without waiting for an answer from him despite the fact that he'd opened his mouth to give one, she turned to Raine. "Is he okay?" Regal had to look away to hide the smile when his caretaker gave her eyes another roll and went back to her cloth and the basin of water beside her. He had not missed the subtle stiffening at the girls' sudden proximity, either, but she did not shrink away as she normally would. She even answered them rather informally—another promising development.

"He is absolutely fine. He may have a bit of a bruised ego for a while," she added, clearly speaking more to him than to the girls as she shot him a wry glance, "but yes. The maladroit farmer is far from his deathbed."

Three pairs of eyes blinked at her, then each other, and then back at her. She must have felt the awkward, uncomprehending stares, for she looked up after setting the slightly stained cloth aside on the rim of the basin and blinked right back at them. Sighing, she nodded. "_Sume_," she asserted. "En vedra san durae. He is fine." Regal leaned back to watch her thoughtfully. He enjoyed hearing the language pass her lips so easily…

There was a quiet, collective breath of relief from the girls, and Amae nodded her comically curt approval as he pulled his attention back to the moment at hand. "Eadlan, you are bureda," she told him—not without a touch of reproach, he thought. But he glanced at Raine for help with the unfamiliar word, and he found mirth at his expense in her face.

"Clumsy," she translated helpfully. "Uncoordinated."

Amae planted her hands on her hips and nodded again with that endearing, if reproving, frown; Vin hid a giggle behind her hand as she nodded, too. But just as he was deciding that they had all begun to gang up on him, there came a soft sound of defiance from shy, little Fee. She still peeped at the scene from over Vin's shoulder, but her lower lip poked out unhappily. "Not!" she declared. Her face colored an instant later, and she shrank further behind her friend. "…My fault. Al…al thyn…Eadlan… I am sorry."

Regal smiled a little. "No. Amae is correct. I was…bar—"

"Bur," Raine interjected under her breath as she picked up his wrist and slid from the stone to kneel in the grass instead.

"_Bur_eda. More importantly, Fee, _you_ are all right." A few scratches were a small price to pay for sparing her a nasty tumble of her own, after all.

The child flushed and vanished behind Vin again, and he had to smile. His gaze was drawn by Amae, however, as she padded up to inspect the wound herself. "The alyth this night. You still can come?"

He glanced up. Ah—right, the celebration. The village had been abuzz with talk of a sort of party that evening. Raine was more than a little dubious about attending, but he couldn't say he wasn't intrigued. The elves of this island were a generally jovial culture, but he was looking forward to seeing what "alyth" meant, in more than just a linguistic sense. "Of course. We—" innocently ignoring the look Raine shot him at the word, "—would not miss it."

"I don't recall volunteering for that—hold still." Still holding his wrist in one hand, she rested the other over the scratch. Her eyes glossed a little as he watched, and she released a slow, quiet breath. Her hand grew warmer against his skin, taking on a soft glow. In a matter of seconds, the sting had vanished; when she drew her hand away, the only trace of anything unusual was the fading warmth of her spell—or maybe her hand.

He withdrew his own hand and flexed it a bit, looking over the mended skin of his arm. "Thank you," he offered. His companion just gave him one last _look _in return as she rubbed a little water over her hands and made to stand. They both seemed to notice at the same moment the loaded silence from the girls; together, as he stood, too, they looked over to find three wide pairs of eyes staring. At Raine.

Her level of comfort among the elves was rising, he knew, but it still had its limits; he could tell those limits were being tested by the admittedly startling looks of…awe? Tension drew her shoulders up, and she eyed her audience rather warily like a cornered animal. "…What?"

"Ela ni tema," Amae breathed. "Althea… Eth Luna si Aska somae ved…"

Regal tilted his head, curious. He recognized the first phrase as a vernacular expression of reverence and surprise (though he couldn't remember exactly what it meant, undoubtedly to the dismay of his many tutors), but other than the familiar names of two Summon Spirits, he hadn't picked up any of the rest of her words. Raine evidently had, however. "Somae…?" she echoed.

. A little of her suspicion had given way to puzzlement when he looked at her. "What does that mean?"

She glanced at him but ultimately shifted her gaze back to the three girls who were clearly getting excited. Vin had both hands cupped over her mouth while Fee clutched at one of her arms. A grin was spreading across Amae's face. "It's something like…'blessed,' I suppose. She said I'm blessed by Luna and Aska."

"Sume, you _are_! Althea, you are very special—why did you not say you have keorath?"

Regal came to stand at her side, intrigued. "You mean her healing abilities?" Certainly, he had long admired her talents, but the girls acted like they had never seen a healing spell before, despite the fact that he had seen them use magic. The two of them shared another glance, but he caught a flash of something more than confusion in hers—just a flash, before she looked back at the girls. After a second's pause, he followed suit.

"This is very exciting!"

"Althea, you are Keoratha!" Vin exclaimed.

Fee was still staring upward with shining eyes. "Keoratha…"

Beside him, Raine shifted a little under the attention. "I'm a healer, yes. Why is that so very _exciting_?"

The three looked around at each other, all clearly surprised by her question. When they set their eyes back on her in that same amusing unison, they looked almost as stunned as they had after the demonstration. "…Keorath is special. Not many in past time have it—is a _gift_, is..."

He tilted his head back slowly as Amae's meaning settled over him. "An affinity for healing is rare, even among elves?" Regal addressed his question toward Raine, who looked just as surprised. And maybe a little unnerved.

"Apparently…"

"You didn't know?"

"I knew it wasn't…a common ability. But both Kratos and Zelos—and _you_, for that matter—had some manner of healing arts."

"But Kratos' was only through his Cruxis Crystal, and aionis was behind Zelos' ability to cast," he reminded her. He had a feeling the three girls were following their conversation with eyes only; the irony was almost enough to make him chuckle, but he continued. "As for mine, yes, I did learn some techniques, but they are really only effective, or of practical use, with the aid of an exsphere—and they're not magic. The entire reason you insisted upon tending my arm today," he added, lifting it slightly, "was that, without such aid, I can manipulate my own body's energy to speed its natural process of healing, while your spells can mend such a wound instantly."

"I insisted upon it because you proved yourself inept today," she countered dryly.

Again he pressed on as though she hadn't spoken, though his good-humored glance toward her said otherwise. "You're the only person I know whose healing skills are both magical and completely innate." He didn't even try to hide the little smile as she averted her gaze and pursed her lips. "Special, indeed."

"We never saw Keoratha before," ventured quiet, little Fee. "Mostly none of us…"

"Has not been Keoratha here for much, much time." Amae shook her head. "You are first!"

"Interesting." Regal lowered himself to the rock on which Raine had been sitting and regarded both the giddy elves and the object of their fascination. Was it his imagination, or was there the slightest hint of pink on that fair face?

"Will you show more?" blurted Vin, taking a hop forward and startling Raine into the tiniest step backward. She looked so hopeful, imploring, but a gentle rap on the crown from Amae made her scrunch up her face.

"Silly," Amae laughed. "You must be not okay for keorath to work. Do you want to be not okay?"

Vin continued pulling a somewhat puckered face while Fee giggled. But after a few seconds, the former spread her arms wide and let herself fall backwards onto the grass. "Then I will be not okay!" she declared.

The three of them lapsed into rather contagious laughter and cries and exclamations in mixed elvish and common. Regal just leaned forward and allowed himself to enjoy the sight; happy children, he thought, painted one of the most marvelous pictures in the world.

"_Okay._" With just this one elvish word, Raine's voice cut through the racket. It was the tone he had heard her students call the Teacher Voice—and it worked just as well on Amae and her friends, he mused, hiding his own mirth by turning his head, as it had on Lloyd and his. They paused in all motion and blinked up at her for a moment; she lifted one eyebrow and stared them down, jaw set and lips pursed.

"Don't the three of you have things to do?" she asked, fixing each in turn with a gaze that was stern on the surface, but…affected underneath. Silently and slowly, he rose back to his feet and linked his hands behind his back, watching. "Ethla shum—all of you go. Alyth, sume?"

Amae drew a soft gasp. "Alyth!" Turning to the other two members of the pack, she flailed her arms a bit. "Sume, sume!" It was with a grin that she helped Fee tug Vin to her feet and then looked over her shoulder. "Even more to happy for: Keoratha. Special Althea. Come on!" She ushered the other two back toward the village. "Sastae alyth o medi!"

He watched the girls skip along, hand in hand, back toward the village. When they were out of earshot, Raine turned away with a shake of her head and a murmured, "Children." He watched her, too; gauged her movements and her posture as she settled her sleeves, which she had pushed up a little to keep from dirtying them, back into place on both arms.

"…One more reason for them to adore you," he teased after a beat. He found her embarrassment rather sweet. There was a sort of restlessness in the way she brushed off her skirt and her hands; to anyone else, it might simply look brisk and absent-minded, but the time they had spent together had been nothing if not informative.

"They're making something out of nothing," she shot back over her shoulder. "It's just another school of magic—and magic is hardly a novelty among _elves_."

Regal took a slow, unthreatening step forward. Her emphasis on their race seemed odd to him. "What you consider to be nothing, Raine, has never quite matched the rest of the world's definition. It's certainly not 'nothing' to them, nor to me."

When she glanced over her shoulder at him, it was with a dry expression. She was covering up her near-slip, and he narrowed his eyes slightly—but she never missed a beat: "Are you saying you _adore_ me, too?"

Her words caught him, and all he could do at first was blink at her rather stupidly, all wondering about her strange words and demeanor effectively halted with an almost audible crash. After a bemused pause that felt a few seconds too long, he shook his head and came forward to crouch and pick up the basin for her. "Not exactly what I meant," he replied in a voice almost contemplative, lingering near the ground for a brief moment. He felt a little off-balance mentally after the question _she _had obviously asked in sarcasm.

"Anyway," she continued as though she hadn't heard him—which, he reflected, she may not have. "It's foolishness—and what was that remark about _us _not missing the festivities this evening?" Here she snapped her head around to look at him. "I was not planning to participate, thank you."

Here, as he rose to his feet again, he expertly hid the little smile that wanted to form. This was an issue he could more easily address, and he was just as glad for the return of solid ground. She certainly was a master of subject change—especially when she was uncomfortable. It was better not to press her on that, then, if she wanted so badly to pretend she wasn't flustered. So, Regal set the basin on the stone with an casual dip of his head. "I gathered as much, yes."

"And yet you tell them that '_we _will not miss it.'"

"_We_," he mused, "will not."

"You sound very sure of yourself."

Regal inclined his head toward her. "Reasonably so, yes. Barring any sudden, unforeseen complications, at least. I know you tend to win the battles you fight, Raine, but I think I can safely say that this is one you would do better to concede gracefully."

She snorted. "Why is that?"

"You have no chances of winning this time."

Raine narrowed her eyes and studied him long and hard. He could see in her face all of the analyzing, the calculating and extrapolating she was doing. It was an interesting process to watch, but he simply held her eyes with a level gaze of his own, brow just slightly lifted. "...Because," she finally observed with more than a hint of resignation in her voice and face alike, "I am going to get no peace unless I agree."

This time he let himself show the smile. "I make no threats myself, but you and I both know that three very persistent girls would be more than willing to drag you to it by force if they had to. They _want _you there, Raine," he added a bit more seriously. "And I think it's a good opportunity."

"To celebrate some obscure event that means nothing to either of us?"

"To learn and understand and make it mean something to us," he answered, unperturbed. She was relaxing around the people, and into their situation; however, the culture, he knew, was still a sore and bitter reminder.

She sighed and looked away again. He took it as her agreement, reluctant as it may have been, and gave a mental nod of approval. She wouldn't get more comfortable with them if she didn't spend time with them, he reasoned. He had made it his job to be the buffer; to be something familiar and known while she adjusted, and that did mean challenging her sometimes. Even if she did not participate (which he entirely expected), it was still important that she at least _go_. These were her roots, and they were ready to accept her this time. It was her turn to be as receptive.

He couldn't help but note the painful irony; it was such a shame that one of the most intensely curious women he'd ever met was struggling to let herself be curious about something that, personally, he found fascinating. But they were going to move forward, as he had been forced to do by Lloyd, Presea, and Altamira.

Though even his sound reasoning and rationality couldn't keep him from the little pang of guilt he felt that evening when they were actually walking _to _the gathering in the glow of the late afternoon sun. She was at his side, rather than behind him, but even the quickest glance toward her revealed a rather stiff and unenthusiastic woman. Her eyes were fixed ahead of her, steps unfaltering but mechanical. With her chin tilted just slightly upward as though in unconscious defiance, she looked almost like she was marching to her death sentence.

It was a mechanism, he knew; she was steeling herself for the harrowing night she saw looming before her. She was putting up the walls and constructing her mask, as he had seen her do a number of times before. She wasn't angry, as her expression might suggest—not at him or anyone else. He had read it that way at first, but months of experience now told him she was simply…anxious. She was uncomfortable, and he knew why; tradition and ritual put her off more than anything else about the island. He supposed it was because, in a way, they epitomized the culture from which she had long been conditioned to consider herself banned. It would take a long time to change those perceptions entirely. He was a patient man.

Still, he wished he could do something to loosen that fist she held behind her back. That it was her right hand, too, spoke volumes. Trying to hide the scars both inside and out. Trying to be stronger than the world.

For a moment more he let the dismal silence sit. Finally, he linked his own hands behind his back and, in a casual voice, broke it. "Alyth—did I pronounce that correctly?"

She blinked for possibly the first time since they had started, and for a fleeting instant he saw the barest chink in her mask when she glanced at him with one eyebrow lifted. "…Miraculously enough, you actually did." Raine drew a breath and returned her gaze to the space in front of them. The tightness crept back up her spine. "What about it?"

"What does it mean, exactly?" It seemed an innocent enough question until he heard her little sniff and looked at her curiously.

"Are you asking for a direct, literal translation?"

Regal nodded once. "Yes."

"It doesn't have one. There is no word in any other language that means the same thing. It's a phen-…it's a tradition unique to the elves."

He flicked his eyes toward her again, noting the self-censorship. When she was upset or agitated, she tended to speak rather analytically, impersonally. Evidently, she had noticed the same trend. The buried sparks of optimism in him unashamedly hoped her conscious rephrasing was a sign of progress. Though, of course, he kept that to himself. "I see," he replied instead. "Have you ever been to one before, then?"

Raine paused before offering a soft, "Yes, actually. I remember a few."

"What is it like? I know it's a celebration of sorts."

"Of sorts. I can't really say for certain whether the…festivities I remember will bear any resemblance to the nonsense into which we're walking tonight, and the occasion always colors it in some way. There was always some spiritual aspect to the ones in Heimdall. It was generally a very quiet evening, as I recall. The best word I can find, I suppose, is 'meditative.'"

It was a strange thought; he wasn't sure he could picture this particular village in a subdued, _meditative _state. There was tranquility in their way of life, to be sure, but the picture she painted seemed rather solemn and sober more than peaceful. Perhaps it was just a side he had yet to see here. Regal nodded slowly. "Then it should be a very interesting evening, indeed. You said the occasion 'colors' the event—what is the occasion, exactly?"

"I haven't been paying close attention," she replied a little tersely, "since my intention was to avoid it. From what I gathered, it has something to do with Efreet."

This surprised him, and it showed on his face. "Efreet," he echoed. Regal paused, considering. "…This village does seem to have quite a bit of reverence for the Summon Spirits. I've heard them speak as though they were deities."

"They are, in a way. Elvish culture considers them patron gods, of a sort, over their respective elements. And what is Martel, really, but the Guardian Spirit of the Tree—the governing Spirit of mana itself? So it probably will be similar to Heimdall's tradition, in which case, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed, since most of what they'll be doing is sitting in a very quiet circle…" She trailed off as they both slowed to a halt and looked around the village center they'd finally reached.

A towering bonfire seemed to be the main focus. It was enormous and looked rather chaotic to him, but no one seemed at all concerned. The entire village had gathered; children flew here and there, chasing one another; a few stood off to the side, playing a game of catch with what looked very much like a little ball of flame. They would make it dance and sway, or spiral upward when they caught it. Men and women alike appeared to be setting out food, and several people looked like they had paint of some kind in various complex designs on their faces. Laughter and conversation filled the air, and both of them took it in—equally startled, but one growing more wary by the moment and the other both captivated and amused.

He glanced toward her and leaned just a little to the side to speak close to her ear. "I may be wrong, but I somehow don't think we're in for a 'quiet evening.'"

Raine kept her eyes on the ruckus before them, clenching her right hand a little more tightly behind her back. "…Apparently not," was her arch reply.

* * *

><p>Raine: Do I want to know where this is going and why you chose there to cut off?<p>

That's a stupid question.

Raine: Technically, there are two questions there...and both are rhetorical. We both know I hate everything your accursed fingers type or write.

That's why it was a stupid question.

Raine: _Questions_, and that's why I said-...forget it. Just...forget it.

Man. We're a lively pair this evening, aren't we? I think you're rubbing off on me, Professor Blah.

Raine: Idiot.

Jerk.


End file.
